


Revenant

by whiskerfruit



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Multi, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-16 17:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskerfruit/pseuds/whiskerfruit
Summary: Remembering what happened before death is an inconvenient glitch in reincarnation, but acceptable. Being reborn as Hinata Hyuuga, in an entirely different universe? Absolutely fucking ridiculous.With the power to change the Hyuuga clan for the better, sitting back and letting the future unfold was never an option. There were more important things than following the plot of an anime from a lifetime ago.(Yet another self-insert fic.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love self-insert fics and I've been planning on writing my own for quite some time. I was thinking about posting this after I had a few chapters, but I figured it's better for my motivation to just post it right away. The style of the first chapter is not how it'll be forever, but I wanted to breeze through the first year of life. This is going to be a very self-indulgent fic. It's a SI fic after all, those two things usually go hand in hand. This will not be a fic that follows canon closely.
> 
> While I'm not set on it, I do tend to like writing romance. I'm undecided on any relationships though, so until I make up my mind it will stay untagged. Characters will be tagged as it updates as well. 
> 
> Reviews are greatly appreciated!

**Prologue:**

 

I don't remember my death. I remember my life, pained and fatigued and _bored._

Three painkillers a day, with backup alarms set on my phone on the off-chance I forgot. It was pretty damn hard to forget. I remember the pain even now, and limbo seems to be a pretty mind-numbing place.

Black and warm and painless, but certainly still boring. I can imagine how my sentience will slowly slip away here. A period to accept things, and then… nothing. I assume I’ll fade away.

Perhaps my energy will go back to the earth. My mom’s philosophy seems believable enough.

Fading away doesn’t seem so bad.

But I can’t feel much here, no matter my thoughts, I only feel content.

Even the memories of _panic, heart skipping, - I can’t_ **_breathe_ ** _-_ aren’t so bad.

But even this place can’t completely wipe away the nervous energy that sparks when I think of that.

So I don’t. Because I can’t remember it.

If I tell myself that enough times, eventually I’ll forget. The human brain is a flexible organ. If people can block out their trauma, I can certainly block out my death.

I don’t like thinking about things that bother me. Breathing isn't the same here; the meditative process of deep breathing is something that I miss. If only to give myself something to focus on.

It’s easy to slip into the darkness here. Thinking isn’t something I need to do.  

I close my eyes.

 

The next time I open them, it’s in panic. The world around me is crashing, flooding around.

Fuck. 

Not again. I swear to god if this is some sort of horrible drop to hell, I’m out.

 _Hah._ Like I have a choice. I should probably stop swearing to god, too, but old habits die-hard.

Or I guess they don’t die at all. It’s too much effort to stop. Worrying about blasphemy seems a little late.

It’s taking a lot longer for this place to end than I thought it would.

Freaking out about it seems pointless. I’m already alone, what’s the need to worry? I doubt things can get worse.

 

 

Things can get so, so much worse. Or better? It’s hard to decide.

I’ll spare the details. Luckily, it’s a lot easier to block out memories of being born than it is to block out death.

A lot of blood, a lot of screaming. So much fucking confusion. Being cradled in my new mother’s arms. It wasn’t as warm as before, but I felt nearly as safe.

It wasn’t bad. Reincarnation was always high on my list of after-death possibilities. 

The main issue here was that I still can remember _before._ I don’t want to remember before. My old mom, my old family, my old friends. I want them out.

I couldn’t feel the grief before when I was floating. But I can sure feel it now.

I know they are probably okay. Mourning, crying, depressed. But probably fine. Or at least, learning to be fine.

It’s not like me dying was anything fucking expected. They should have known to brace themselves. It’s not my fault my body was faulty. It’s not my damn fault that I died. 

But I still cry about it, stupidly. It doesn’t make anything different. I still don’t forget.

It’s a good thing I’m a baby because the sobs are wailing and awful. I wouldn’t have had any decent excuse otherwise. My new mother comes into the room when she hears them.

She speaks in quiet Japanese and cradles me in her arms.

She helps. Everyone I knew before might be struggling, but there’s someone here that loves me. That needs me here. It gets me to stop crying, at least.

I wish I knew her name. I wish I knew _my_ name. Because that person, who lived before, isn’t me. I don’t want to be her anymore. It hurts too much.

But mind over matter, right? If I don’t want to be her, then I won’t be. It’s just memories, after all. I just have to not think about them.

 

My name is Hinata. I may not know Japanese, but months and months of it being spoken to me eventually words start to sink in.

_Hinata-chan, good morning. Hinata-chan, it’s time for food. Hinata-chan…_

My mother’s voice is soothing. It’s something to focus on, at the very least. But she so obviously cares for me, and it’s always been easy for me to reciprocate when shown such easy displays of affection.

There’s a man who visits too, presumably my father. Faces are still blurry, but he seems strict. When he speaks, it’s low and stoic. Controlled.

 I don’t know how to feel about him. Fathers have never met my expectations. So it’s better to just hold off on making a judgement.

Other than that, being a newborn is boring as hell. I sleep, a lot. Almost more than I did when I was sick in my old life. But it’s more restful sleep, which I’m thankful for. 

I cry, I poop, I eat. It’s a routine to follow, at the very least.

There are no expectations of me, no guidelines of life for me to follow yet. The part of my chest that longs for rules to follow is left hollow.

Time goes very, very quickly when there’s nothing to occupy me. I’m six months old in the blink of an eye.

A year sneaks up on me, but it’s pretty hard to miss my first birthday.

Not only because I’ve started to pick up on bits of language, but also because of the giant gathering held in my name.

Apparently, my family is very, very large. How did I miss this? I must have slept a lot more than I thought.

I sit beside my father, on my mother’s lap, and watch as all the men and women bow to us and take a seat at the table. There’s a little collection of nicely wrapped presents set off to the side of the room.

I haven’t been in this room before. It’s traditional Japanese style, with the table set low to the floor. It’s bigger than the usual dining room I eat in; it’s large enough to seat 30 people comfortably, which it seems to be doing. There aren’t any kids my age, which is a bit of a disappointment. It’d be nice to see any cousins I had.

I miss my old-

 _Nope._ I babble happily up at my mother and focus on her wide smile in response.

She touches her thumb to my cheek, and leans down to whisper in my ear, “See her over there? She’s going to have a baby next year. You’ll have a little baby cousin, won’t that be nice?”

Some of the words went over my head, but the swell of the woman’s belly gave me enough context to figure out the general gist of things.

I giggle in response and wrap my hands around my mother’s thumb. Yeah, a baby cousin would be nice.

Everyone here has the same glassy, clear eyes that I recognize on my parents. None of them are blind, but odd family traits do pop up throughout history, I suppose. It’s a shame none of them is the type to have Instagram, they’d get popular as hell with eyes that unique.

A man walks up to my father; he speaks quickly enough that I can’t follow the words. He looks identical to my father; the exception being the black fabric wrapped around his forehead.

Ha. My dad has a twin, how cool is that? I haven’t ever even been friends with twins, let alone had any in my family.

My uncle looks stern and unfriendly and doesn’t acknowledge me even as I stare up at him with wide eyes.

Their conversation ends quickly, and he goes to sit with the others at the end of the table. 

The party is not like any other birthdays I’ve had. It’s quiet and unfestive, but my mom feeds me my favorite sweet fruits. I don’t understand any of the speaking going around, but I listen to the foreign words despite it.

When everyone leaves, they bow to our family again. I wonder if it’s because of status or because it was my birthday. I guess I’ll find out eventually.

My mother and I open the gifts afterward. Well, she opens them and I make happy cooing noises when she holds them up to me. 

It’s… a lot of kimonos. A handful of little toy knives - which is weird as hell - and a soft plush toy in the shape of a dog. When I make grabby hands towards the stuffed animal, my mother places it obediently in my lap.

Nice. I squish it a few times. Yeah, it was a good birthday. I got more gifts as a baby than I did as an adult, how weird is that? Hinata is a popular kid.

My mom speaks, in the slow, quiet voice she uses when addressing me, “Hinata-chan, now here is something that your father and I have for you. I’ll be able to explain more about it to you when you’re older, but the heiress of our clan needs a very special gift today, doesn’t she?”

Despite the fact all I do is blink up at her, my mother smiles and continues, “Yes, she does. Stay calm, this is natural.”

She reaches out with a slightly glowing hand and gently taps my forehead and I.

See.

_Everything._

The compound swirls through my head, my room, a pair of teenagers with headbands walking through the halls, the neatly manicured grounds outside the building. Everything is brilliant and clear and full of life.

It all appears around me, overwhelming and magical. My mind _burns_ with the overload. My eyes feel hyper-aware, sensitive and filled with a foggy, bright power.

And just as quickly as it began, it stops. The room closes in, what was once normal before now feels opaque and dull. There’s no energy visible to me. My mom is kneeling in front of me, her hand cradling my head. 

Her smile shows her straight white teeth; her hand strokes my hair.

“Hinata-chan, that is the byakugan. It’s the gift that every Hyuuga is given, and you are destined to lead us all one day. You’re a blessing that was given to us, and I’ll always do my best to help you,” She murmurs, half to herself. She pulls me close to her chest and holds me.

Well.

In retrospect, I feel stupid as hell.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata meets a new relative.

****

 

**Chapter One:**

 

I sit outside on the wooden porch, a coloring book and crayons abandoned to my side.

The sun was high in the sky, masked by the thick layer of gray clouds typical of winter. It may not snow in Konoha, but the chill in the air was still unmistakable.

I tug down the baby-pink hat my mother had tucked over my hair until it covers my eyes, and then lean back. My back settles comfortably against the floor, and the sudden lack of sight makes the breeze on my arms all the more noticeable.

But I wasn’t here to get fresh air or marvel at how fucking nice it is to lay on my back and not be in excruciating pain.

Well, I still marvel at it a little. A whole new body, one that isn’t entirely bugged. It’s hard to not be in awe of it. Being pain-free is fucking amazing.

But no, getting distracted by my own thoughts is the absolute opposite of my plans.

Inhale. Exhale. A blank notebook, slowly being flipped through page by page.

One, two, three, four.

Numbers fading into nothingness, the feeling of blood in my fingertips, the cool hardwood of the floor against my back.

A spark of chakra, deep in my stomach.

_Aha!_

Just as soon as I felt it, the feeling disappears.

“Fuck!” I can’t help but hiss, sitting up and tugging my hat back into place.

It was just within my grasp too. Meditation was such bullshit.

I let out a deep breath, and try to remember the feeling of the chakra. It was warm and contained, like a small ember in my stomach.

Glowing and soothing, like the feeling of the afterlife. I focus on the sensation until it appears again in my stomach.

Placebo or real? I decide on real; it’s more convenient for me.

I focus on the chakra, how its energy swirls and reacts to my focus. The more I focus, the more I can feel the tiny tendrils that connect it through my body.

“Hinata-chan, what on _earth_ are you doing?” someone exclaims behind me.

Ah, fuck. I open my eyes again and turn my head to meet the gaze of my mother.

“Mama,” I say, and try my best to look as innocent and angelic as possible. I was pretty cute in my last life, and being a baby made using my puppy-eyes even easier than before.

“Don’t you mama me, Hinata-chan. What were you trying to do out here?” Mother sighs and kneels down beside me. She collects my coloring books in one arm and picks me up with the other.

Her frail arms were misleading; I wouldn’t have expected her to be able to lift 10 pounds, let alone the 25 pounds that I am.

“Eyes,” I say in response, and poke her temple in a mimicked fashion of the way she did to me.

At that, her face softens around the eyes. She sighs again, this time with reluctant understanding. “Hinata-chan, you need to be a bit older before you can do things like that. And when you can, you need to have an adult watching you. Not off on your own.”

She adjusts me on her hip and walks back inside the room. “Be honest about what you want to do, Hinata-chan. Do you understand?”

I nod my head a few times and try to look suitably scolded. I do understand her worries, of course. Everything I remember about chakra made it out to be an energy that needed very careful control.

But curiosity was a terrible thing. I’m in fucking _Naruto_ , how could I not reach out to try it? It would have required a level of self-control far out of my reach.

“Just bored,” I say, staring at the perfectly painted walls as we walk through the compound. Luckily, Mother was excellent at understanding what my clipped sentences meant.

“Hmm, well. I know I’ve been busy these past few days, but how about I introduce you to your older cousin? It’ll be nice for you to have someone to play with,” she says, reluctance all but dripping from her voice. Even her brows have a little furrow between them.

“Okay,” I reply, barely holding back a yawn. Cousin, hm? Technically everyone in the compound is related, so most kids my age were my cousins. A feeling in my gut said that whoever she was talking about wasn’t just another baby cousin.

Meeting Neji… yeah, that’d be something to satiate my boredom for some time.

Dinner that night is an awkward affair. I’ve recently grown old enough to feed myself; the amount of pride I feel about it is something I refuse to acknowledge.

Mother sits beside me as always and eats her rice at the pace of a snail.

My father, across from us, sits his chopsticks down with a firm clack. “What is it, Hisako? Something is clearly on your mind.” His voice, usually emotionless, is tinted with exasperation.

“I want Hinata-chan to meet little Neji,” Mother says, the hesitation from earlier gone. “They’re cousins, and I think it’d be nice if they could play together.”

Oh god, were they really going to do this with me right here?

Silence. If it were any later, the crickets could be heard chirping.

“No,” Father says, after millennia of waiting. Mother’s unimpressed face clearly shows that does not answer enough.

He continues, “Hizashi will not allow it. He does not want Neji to be… personal. With Hinata. He will have a duty to her, and to have them be playmates will cause confusion.”

“If that’s the case, then I’ll speak with him. Miyako and I were friends, I’m sure that he will understand.” Mother nods, mind made up and continues to eat.

The conversation is clearly dismissed, and despite the repressed irritation on Hiashi’s face, no one speaks again for the rest of the meal.

The tension in the air is palpable, but I still finish my dinner. After months of no taste, even my least favorite foods taste delicious. Even baby food is enjoyable, in its own way.

\---

 

_Oh god? Fuck. Shitshitshit. This can’t be fucking happening._

_Being reincarnated, totally normal. Great, even. Naruto is an anime. It’s not real._

_Except that obviously, it clearly is. My own parents are proof that it is. This house._

_How did it take me so long to realize?_

_Because I didn’t want to. Because it’s easier to not notice when things are weird._

_I still don’t want to know. Why did chakra - the byakugan - have to be so undeniable?_

_It’d be so much easier if I forgot. If I could just block it all out and live as Hinata Hyuuga, the real character. Without any previous knowledge, I can easily imagine myself growing up to be someone like her._

_If I hadn’t already grown up._

_Why couldn’t my brain just forget things like a normal person? Fuck this. Fuck Naruto. I’ll just stay out of it. I already died once, I deserve an easy life._

_And I had to figure it out today of all days. Happy fucking birthday, Hinata._

_\---_

 

I blink away, groggily lifting my head to find the source of whatever noise is happening.

“Hinata-chan, wakey wakey. We have something to do today. Hinata-chan,” Mother sing-songs, her hand rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“Mrngh,” I say and attempt to shove my head back into the pillows.

“Aha, I see you’re awake. No more sleeping, Hinata-chan. Up we go,” she says and pulls me up into her arms. “Let’s go get ready to pay someone a visit!”

The next few minutes go by in a blur, and when my brain finally realizes that it’s time to be awake, I’m dressed and walking down the hall with Mother.

It’s easy enough to rest my head against her chest, and slowly… drift… off…

A man’s voice shocks me from my daze. It was too late to register his words, but I catch my mother’s reply.

“Hizashi-kun, I understand your caution but I promise you, Hinata will not take advantage of Neji. She’s almost two, she knows how to be responsible. Having them interact when they’re young will help their relationship when they’re older, I’m sure of that.”

He scoffs in return, head turning to look at a closed door off to the side. “It is not _Hinata_ taking advantage of Neji that I worry about,” he says, voice heavy with scorn. “I have nothing but respect for _all_ members of the main family.”

A pause as my mother thinks over his words. “Well, then I see no issue with them being playmates. I’m glad you agree with me,” she says. I glance up to see her smile, cool and composed.

“...Of course, Hisako-san. They can meet tomorrow.” Hizashi bows, though it’s more like of a nod of his head.

“Why not now? Hinata-chan is here with me, and from what I’ve heard, your Neji is an early riser. Isn’t that right, Neji-chan?” Mother says, her voice lilting at the end as she turns her head to regard the closed door.

The tiny crack opens wider, and a tiny face peers out from behind it.

_Oh my god._

Neji as a toddler is so fucking cute. I’m gonna die.

I remove my hand from where it was twirling a strand of hair and wave it at Neji. He meets my gaze and gives a tiny, tentative smile.

 _Awww._ Mother’s smile widens, and she says, only a little smug, “See? They can meet now, while you and I have some tea. By the end of this, I’m sure your worries will be assuaged.”

The way she phrases it, it’s clear that ‘no’ is not an option here. Hizashi picks that up as well and inclines his head in agreement.

“Neji, come out and meet your cousin, Hinata,” he says. He waits until Neji stands beside him, touches his shoulder lightly, then walks away to get some tea.

Mother sets me down on the floor and after giving me an encouraging pat on the back, goes off to join Hizashi.

It’s only then that I realize I have no fucking idea how to talk to kids. I never had any interactions with them in my past life, and this right here is the first toddler I’m really meeting.

Well. Standing silently isn’t going to do anything. Especially because Neji is starting to look nervous.

“Hi, I’m Hinata,” I say, taking a step closer to him. “I’m your cousin.”

All of that he must have already known, given the fact he was a little eavesdropper, but. What else was I supposed to say?

“Neji,” he says, staring at me with those big, translucent eyes. “My father didn’t tell me I had a cousin.”

“Me neither,” I say. The urge to start biting my lip is nigh irresistible, but I _am_ a Hyuuga now. Nervous tics like that weren’t acceptable. “Is that your room in there?” I point to the door he came through.

“Yes, do you wanna see inside?” He asks, turning to walk in. “I got new toy shuriken.”

I follow him into the room and leave the door open if Hizashi worries.

Though it’s not as if distance or doors will impede his ability to check on his son, we are Hyuuga after all.

Neji’s room is neat and obviously decorated by his father. There’s a bin full of toys tucked near the bed, which he’s currently shuffling through.

Moments later, he wanders back over to me and hands me a toy shuriken. There’s a plastic kunai in his own hand.

“My dad set up a target there,” he points to a sheet of paper taped to the wall, a small circle drawn in the center.

“Oh, um,” I swear to god I better not inherit the original Hinata’s stuttering, “do you want to practice aiming then?

Neji nods once but makes no move to throw his kunai. He stares at me.

I guess that means it’s my turn then. I haven’t actually done this before; I had the same toys gifted to me, of course. I’d just rather color picture books than smack fake weapons around.

But that choice was not here now. I fumble with the shuriken till it’s held in the most comfortable place in my hand, aim at the little paper sheet, and let it fly.

_Smack._

It hits the paper. Barely. The shuriken is made of plastic, so it falls uselessly to the ground after being thrown.

Neji is conspicuously quiet. He goes over and fetches the shuriken, and hands it back to me.

“You go again,” he says.

“Um, okay.” God, I forgot how much practice talking needed.

The feeling of his eyes following my every movement only enhances my anxiety. It certainly makes me very aware that I’m doing this wrong.

I repeat the same motions as before, but aim a little closer to the center.

_Smack._

Closer to the circle, but still swerves to the left.

Neji gathers the shuriken and puts it directly in my hand. His little chubby fingers touch my own as he adjusts my grip. Fingers positioned differently and held in a more confident way.

“You hold it like that, and throw it like…” He lets go of my hand and imitates the way a shuriken should be properly thrown. I watch carefully at the way his wrist flicks.

It’s certainly more to go on than I had before. “Thanks.” I give my most appreciative smile, and blink a little at the way he goes red. _Aww._

I flick my wrist the same way Neji did, and throw the shuriken as best I can.

_Smack._

It hits the center. Not dead-on, but still. In the circle for sure.

“I did it!” I exclaim, playing up my excitement, and grin over at Neji. The way he puffs up with pride is _so_ cute.

“I’ll show you how to do kunai next,” he says and proceeds to give me a school-worthy lecture on how to hold and aim a weapon.

Who could have guessed three-year-olds were so smart?

\---

 

It’s two hours later when Mother comes back to pick me up. She looks more unhappy than I’ve ever seen her. Which is to say, she’s perfectly neutral. Her face reminds me of Father’s typical expression.

Well, I can’t say I blame her. Two hours with Hizashi must be a drain on anyone. His anger was justified, of course, but that didn’t make it enjoyable to be around someone that full of resentment.

I wonder how he’d react to little Hinata’s feelings on the branch clan. Probably let out killing intent. Feelings don’t change situations, and it’d be a long time before I’d even have the possibility to change anything.

“Hinata-chan, it’s time to go back to our rooms. Did you have fun with Neji?” she asks, a tired smile growing on her face. She scoops me into her arms. I should really start insisting she lets me walk around the house sometimes.

“Yeah, lots of fun. I want to play with him again,” I say. She might be good at reading my moods, but better to be extra clear. Neji needs to have me in his life, and it actually wasn’t that bad to play toys with a 3-year-old.

He’s better at throwing things as a toddler than I was even as an adult. No wonder everyone called him a prodigy.

“I’m sure you’ll get to see Neji again very soon. Say bye for now,” she prompts, and I lift my hand to wave down at Neji.

He does the same tiny smile, and waves back at me from across the room.

“Goodbye, Neji-chan.” Mother smiles at him and walks us out of the room.

 

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur of boredom and routine, and I’m soon tucked into bed.

There’s a pile of stuffed animals beside me, and I pick out my favorite - a fluffy seal - and squish it in my arms.

I may be a bit older mentally, but stuffed animals were great. A comfort, to not feel so alone when I sleep.

I fiddle with the seal’s fin and try to focus on the feeling of the fluff between my fingers instead of the creeping dread.

It works, for a little while.

_Neji’s going to die._

Thinking about the plot of _Naruto_ is something I preferred not to think about, if not outright avoided.

Most of the thoughts from life before fell into that category.

Naruto was filled with death and destruction, and I didn’t… want to deal with it.

But I didn’t really have a choice anymore, did I? Seal’s belly is a great place to burrow my head, and I promptly do so.

My eyes flood with tears that I refuse to acknowledge. Neji’s going to die, and the branch clan is never going to change.

Except things aren’t going to end up the same. I can’t imagine marrying a blonde.

Holy shit, I’m shallow. Is this really the time, Hinata?

Even if I somehow did, there’s no way I’m having kids. Well, I’m an heiress… Adoption would be okay if I needed to.

Thoughts similar to this float through my head, my attempts at distracting myself from the main thing I really don’t want to think about.

_What do I do?_

I can’t save everyone. I can’t stop a war. There’s no way some future-knowledge can change the entire universe. I’m the future head of the Hyuuga clan and a future shinobi.

I can be a good shinobi. I can find a way to heal the rift between the main and branch clans, if not outright merge them. I can protect Neji.

I know the future, and if I tell anyone, my status will be changed. I might be hailed as a psychic, or the heiress of the Hyuuga clan might be forever known as that one crazy kid who had psychotic delusions.

The second option seems more likely. But either way… I can’t risk it. Without me, nothing will change. Without me, Neji will die.

I still remember certain panels of Naruto, and his death is certainly one of them. With me, he still might die. But if I’m there and strong enough, I’ll be able to stop it.

So… fuck everything else. I’ll do my best. I’ll protect my family.

I exhale deeply and hug the seal plush close to my chest. I’ll make things work out. I always have.

For now, rest is more important. Everything else can be a problem for future me.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm primarily an artist, so drawing a cover for any fanfic I write is... basically fated to happen.


	3. Chapter 2

  **Chapter Two:**

 

Sadly the thing about time is that no matter how much I wish life would stay on pause, it moves on.

Worries I’ve left for the future creep upon me, and before I know it, I’m turning three.

I sit beside Neji on the floor of his room and listen dutifully as he shows me the new book on ninja-skills he got. It’s actually pretty informative, but I still can’t help but tune out as I focus on the long sweep of his hair over his shoulders instead.

It’s so black and inky, I’d kill to have some drawing materials with me. Charcoal would be best, I think...

There’s a moment where he goes silent, staring at the page. The picture in front of us is a jonin, posed in a defensive stance. It goes on to show little picture instructions about how to block an incoming kunai.

“Do you wanna practice that? I can throw paper balls at you,” I ask, pointing at the picture.

“I’m afraid there’s no time for that. Hinata, it is time to leave,” a deep voice speaks behind us, and I turn to face the door.

“Father... alright. See you later, Neji,” I pat his shoulder once and stand, walking over to stand near Hiashi.

The urge to ask why Mother isn’t here fetching me is at the tip of my tongue. But even though Father has never been cruel to me, I do remember the alternate past. I’m not risking that.

Lectures on my - _her_ \- lack of worth, a uncaring apathy. Talking about her faults in earshot.

I may be different, but that doesn’t mean other people are.

As we walk out of their rooms, I speak up, “Is there something you wished to do, Father?”

Even as I peer up at him, his face remains blank. It usually is, but when he’s with Mother and me, it usually relaxes a small amount.

None of that is apparent here. My underlying nerves spark in my stomach; If I let them, they would crawl to my throat and impede my speech. Which is the opposite of acceptable.

“On your birthday tomorrow, we will be having a ceremony. Your position as the heiress of the clan will become official,” he says, eyes remaining straight ahead.

“I’m happy to hear that. What should I be doing?” I stamp down the compulsion to start fidgeting with the edge of my shirt; that may be okay to do in front of Mother, but not so much here.

It’s been so long since I read or watched anything in _Naruto,_ but I remembered most of the original books. Growing up with something tends to make it easier to remember; _Naruto_ had been my obsession all throughout middle school.

It was hard to forget things about the clan I’m now a part of. Especially the more insidious things.

Father exhales through his nose; a sigh that’s barely audible. “You need do nothing. Only your presence is required. I and the other members of the main family will take care of the rest.”

We don’t speak again until we reach the part of the compound we live in, and I finally speak up, “What’s the difference between the main family and the other part, Father? You’ve talked about it, but I don’t…”

I know, of course. But I want to hear what he’d tell me, his 3-year-old daughter.

Father and I don’t speak often. Endearing myself to him is impossible without any interaction. It may be impossible in general, but it’d haunt me if I didn’t even try.

His eyes finally meet mine for the first time today. “A good question. Normally, all would be explained before the ceremony tomorrow. But since you asked, I will tell you now.

In the Hyuuga clan, there is the main family; It’s made up of us, the leaders, and a select few elders. Any children born of the elders will be raised to fill their places. You will take my place as head when you are older.”

Father watches me and does not continue until I nod my head that I understand. It’s easy to follow. His voice is stern as always, but when his words are not clipped, it’s rather soothing.

“Everyone else makes up the branch clan. It is, as the name states, a branch off of the main clan. The power our eyes hold is envied by many people, and all who belong to the branch clan must do their duty to protect the secret of them.”

_Really? That’s it?_

I tilt my head, and can’t help but ask, “Why is it just the branch clan that protect it? Shouldn’t we do that too?”

“We take care of all other aspects of the clan, and they protect us. It’s a system that benefits both sides. A symbiotic relationship between the two.”

That’s all well and good, but giving one part of the clan the power to literally cause debilitating pain to the other is not justifiable. There was a rift clearly visible in how I’ve never met a single branch member that didn’t serve us food or clean up our rooms.

Other than Neji, of course.

I can imagine the arguments to the pros of keeping the branch clan sealed, and every single one is bullshit. The main family still becomes ninjas and goes out on missions, and none of them have their eyes sealed. It’s an excuse as transparent as could be.

Protecting the sanctity of the Hyuuga clan was all well and good, but this wasn’t safety. It was the main clan holding the branch clan’s leash. No better than slavery.

Power was intoxicating, and no one wanted to give it up. Good intentions didn’t make that okay.

But I nod my head anyway. I’m not supposed to know any of that. “I understand.”

“Good. Tomorrow we will be introducing new members of the branch clan; it’s an occasion that must be taken very seriously. Your mother will get you ready, and then you will come with me to honor their loyalty to the Hyuuga.”

He reaches out, tentatively and awkwardly, and places his hand on my hair. There’s no ruffling, but the feeling of his hand, large and warm, still sends a rush of affection through me.

He may be a total fascist, but he’s still a better father than my before-dad. It’s… nice. He’s here. He talks to me, if prompted. If I showed up, chronically ill and dying, he would be disappointed. But he’d care, probably. It’s more than I’m used to.

Makes me feel guilty as hell, but I smile up at him anyway.

* * *

 

My mother wakes me up the next morning as usual. She brushes my hair, still short and spiky, and eventually gives up on getting the back to lay flat.

I stare at myself in the mirror, my eyes wide and clear. It’s easy to forget my appearance when I’m busy, but looking at myself sends a pang through my chest.

My hair is too dark, too _straight_. My face is too small, my eyes are too clear.

Where I expect to see blonde and hazel, black and white appear back at me.

“Today is a day of great honor for you, Hinata-chan. You’re the future of the Hyuuga clan, everyone there will be very happy for you,” she speaks as she looks through my collection of tiny kimonos. She lifts up a lovely jade-colored one and hums in consideration.

She hadn’t noticed my distraction. A relief. I get up from the stool and sit on the bed instead. If I can't see my reflection, nothing’s changed.

“Mother, how did Neji’s mom die?” I ask. It’s both blunt and impolite, and if not necessary, I wouldn’t ask at all.

It’s been on the back of my mind for days. No one speaks of her. Even Neji has not brought her up once. And asking him is _completely_ out of the question.

My eyes don’t leave her face, and I watch as she pales a shade and sets the kimono back down. “Hinata-chan… that’s a very hard thing to talk about.” My mother, her skin so clear and youthful, looks ill at even the thought of going into any more details.

A pang of regret runs through me, at having to put her in such an awkward position.

“I know,” I say, going on despite my feelings. “But I didn’t want to ask Neji, and I need to know if I shouldn’t mention some things to him.”

Which does factor into it. I also just want to know. She would have been my family, if she was here. Family is important, whether they are blood relatives or not.

Her expression is still clearly torn, and she runs a hand through her long, black hair. The same as mine. I envy the length; it seems much easier to manage.

“Neji-chan adores you, I’m sure you could mention anything and he won’t be upset…” She starts, but even as she speaks, she can tell those words aren’t true. Some subjects are off-limits, no matter who asks. “Alright, but Hinata-chan, this is a secret between you and I, okay? This isn’t something you can tell Neji-chan.”

“I promise. Just between us,” I repeat, waiting expectantly. I curl my toes in my socks as I wait.

She sits beside me on the futon and takes my tiny hand in her own. Her nails are neatly manicured, painted a shade of nude that matches her skin.

“Sometimes… when a person is sick, it can affect their thoughts. Neji’s mother, Miyako, was very sick. But not all illnesses are visible, Hinata-chan. So no one noticed when she only got worse and worse… Eventually, when her bad thoughts took over the good ones, she ended her life.”

I suck in a deep breath. Out of all things, that was not what I expected.

No wonder Hizashi was so angry. I part my lips to speak, but no words come out of my mouth.

For once, I really don’t know what to say.

“But that’s why, Hinata-chan, we need to choose to be kind to everyone we can. Even if you can’t see it, sometimes people are struggling. We protect our own, and being compassionate to the family is part of that.” She squeezes my hand into hers and kisses me gently on the forehead.

“Let’s finish getting you ready. You deserve to look your best today.”  


* * *

 

We walk down the hall to meet Father, but my thoughts are preoccupied.

I give Mother a solid 7/10 for sensitivity when it comes to talking to a kid about suicide. She didn’t lie or avoid the subject. She was sensitive and straight-forward.

I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing. If I was really three, I don’t know if I would want to know about things like that. But I wasn’t, so the affection that swells in me is entirely my own. I was lucky to have another mom who cared so much about me.

I’ve never left the compound. I’ve gone onto the grounds, but Mother rarely leaves, and I’m not allowed anywhere without her.

I don’t know what shinobi culture is like, not really.

I can guess at it though, and I can’t imagine that they were very sensitive to people with mental health issues. They ended up leaving a newly orphaned boy completely on his own, post-torture. And even their treatment of other orphans… it didn’t paint a pretty picture.

If they were that dispassionate to children on their own, I can’t even imagine how hard it would be for a new mother of an influential clan to get any help.

No one helped the branch clan.

No one would help me.

“Hinata,” Father says, looking down at me. The lines around his eyes are creased deeper than usual. He’s always dressed formally, but today even more so. He’s wearing a shade of royal blue that matches my kimono. I wonder if mother picked my outfit intentionally for that reason. It seemed like something she’d do. “Pay attention. This is no time for daydreaming.”

“Yes, Father,” I reply and lift my head. He was right. Daydreaming about the past wouldn’t change the future. Worrying about my future wouldn’t help me actually live it.

“We’ll head outside now. Stand up straight, and do not get distracted by Neji,” he orders.

My mother walks beside me, my Father in front of us.

It’s not a long walk. We head towards a part of the compound grounds not typically used. There’s a chill in the air, typical of a December morning. I resist the urge to shiver. This body was as sensitive to the slightest breeze as my old one. One day I’ll be able to invest in a thick wool jacket. That’ll be the best day of all.

At our appearance, the people gathered all bow. It’s hard to tell if it’s at me or my Father. Probably both of us.

There are more people here than I’ve ever seen in this life. All of them dark haired and light eyed. All of the children under 13 have unmarked foreheads; they stand close to family members with a wrapped brow.

I suppose that’s going to change today. A hell of a lot more caged birds now.

The corner of my mouth starts twitching downward. My eyes scan through the crowd, and I manage to spot little Neji. He’s wide-eyed and ignorant of what’s going to happen, and he smiles when he sees me looking.

My mouth twitches again. But I resist the urge to frown and force a smile back at him; he’d worry if I looked so undeniably sad.

My heart feels heavy in my chest. Even so, I’m made of steel. I’ll make the grief productive; I’ll protect Neji. Not now, when I’m weak. In the future, I’ll make it up to him.

“You will stay here with your mother, Hinata,” Father tells me. He sounds distracted. Resentful as I am, I don’t blame him for that.

Hizashi approaches first, Neji in tow. “Hinata-sama is already three. Congratulations,” he says, his tone as deadpan as he could get away with.

_Mood._

“Yes, thank you…” Father replies. There’s a large pause, before he speaks again, “I’ll take Neji now, Hizashi.”

Neji blinks up at Father, before glancing back at Hizashi. But when he sees no sign of anything being explained, he looks to me.

My throat feels dry. If I speak now, my words will come out choked and twisted. I smile at him again instead. I don’t feel reassuring, but it’s easy to put on a good facade.

Hizashi touches Neji lightly on the shoulder and walks away, going to stand back with the crowd of adults.

“Neji, stand beside me. We will proceed soon,” Father says, nodding to the right.

Another man approaches moments later, two children trailing behind him. A girl who couldn’t be more than one is carried to us in her father’s arms. He’s the only adult who stays, out of necessity.

The crowd of children grows larger until at least 15 stands beside us.

“Come with me,” Hiashi says to them, and leads them away. Out of my sight.

I didn’t say a word. I bite the inside of my lip viciously, the pain helps me resist the urge to start sobbing.

_Coward. Coward. Coward._

It doesn’t feel like it’ll be enough. I bite until the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth, and relax.

My mother stands beside me, silent and statuesque. She doesn’t even look at me, only watches the branch members of the clan imperiously.

I wonder if Neji is crying. It probably hurts.

The waiting doesn’t get any easier.

I don’t end up seeing any of the kids again that night. Father comes back, and the branch members are dismissed to go fetch their children.

Father brings Mother and me back to our rooms. Her face, blank as a stone, softens when we are alone.

Hatred is a nasty, vicious feeling that pools low in my belly. I can’t get it to go away, even knowing it’s pointlessness.

I don’t know who it’s directed to, Father or myself. I know if I focus on it too much, I won’t like the answer.

Mother touches Hiashi’s hand and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. They don’t speak. It doesn’t seem necessary. He heads to their room, and she turns to me.

“You did good today, Hinata-chan. I’m very proud of you,” she says, kneeling down to my level. I hadn’t ever seen her like I did before. The wife of a clan leader. It’s hard to reconcile that with my doting mother.

She reaches out and pulls me into a hug. The lip that I had tried so desperately to control starts to wobble dangerously again. The hatred disappears as soon as it appeared, and all that I feel now is sad. None of this should have happened.

I bite down on the inside of it again; just because the night was over with didn’t give me an excuse to cry. It wasn’t _my_ life that had changed today.

Mother touches my hair and pulls back. “Let’s start growing your hair out. We Hyuuga wear it long, and you should be a part of that tradition.”

The idea of speaking right now still grates; I nod my head instead.

Mother stands, and strokes my head. “Go get some rest, Hinata-chan. Good night.”

I open my mouth to reply, and then decide against it. Speaking would only cause my voice to wobble and start the waterworks. I nod and go to lay down.

* * *

 

Somewhat unsurprisingly, I can’t sleep. It’s 9, which is late for my usual bedtime.

Flashes of Neji keep appearing in my mind, no matter how much I attempt to relax my body.

My favorite seal plush isn’t even helping because I keep touching its soft fur and thinking, seal. _Seal._

_I’m so fucking stupid._

Damned caged bird seal. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if it didn’t give fully grown adults the power to hurt children. It’d still be fucking horrible, but if it was just a preventive measure that everyone had… I could live with it.

Sneaking around the compound at night is a stupid idea when every single member of the clan can see through walls. Of course I know that, but it was hard to bring myself to care. What would they do if they caught me? _Scold_ me? A baby got a seal carved into their head today.

And even still, their eyes would have to be activated for them to catch me, so as long as I get lucky… I’ll probably be fine. I doubt many people would rat me out, even if they did see me. I’m the heiress officially now, after all.

I get out of bed anyway and tug on the soft robe I wear around the compound when it’s particularly cold out. It’s fuzzy and white; I’d wear it around all the time if it weren’t so improper.

If I go out through the main room, my parents would hear me for sure.

Luckily, there’s a window right to the side of my room. It’s easy enough to unlock and push open. The compound is very well maintained, there is no badly timed squeaking.

I’m still tiny, and it’s easy enough to climb up through it after standing on my desk.

There’s a bit of a drop to the ground below, so I try my best to slowly lower myself. The socks I’m wearing muffle the small noise I make when I drop to the floor.

I pause despite myself, waiting for someone to catch me. I’ve never snuck out before, in either of my lives. It was hard to know what to expect.

But no one comes running to scold me, so I take it as a blessing that what I’m doing is totally smart enough.

_Ha, yeah right._

I creep through the halls, keeping my footsteps light and silent. I’m light footed by nature, it’s a shame Hiashi isn’t going to grade me on my sneakiness. I’d be the best heiress in the universe, if he did. The way to Neji’s rooms are easy to follow; I’ve been there enough times to have it memorized.

Still, no one stops me.

It seems incredibly rude to just… open the door. What if Hizashi is right there? It’s one thing to stop by unexpectedly, and another thing to just waltz right in.

I walk over to where Neji’s window is instead and grab the edge. My arms are weak and shaky as I do the pull up to peer over the edge. Neji sits on his own bed, awake and with a freshly bandaged forehead.

He doesn’t see me, so I tap my fingers against the window.

He jumps up from the bed in alarm but relaxes when he sees it’s my face peering through the window. I resist the urge to giggle at his absolutely bewildered face.

Even after a long, tiring day, he shows no hesitation when he walks over to his own window and pushes it open.

My arms ache from hanging there, and crawling through the opening and tumbling into Neji’s room is a great relief. It looks a little different at night; it’s easier to imagine him sleeping here. The lights are all turned off, the only exception is a small bedside table. It gives a soft, orange glow to the place.

“Hi,” I whisper. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Neji licks his lips, his eyes darting over to his door as if he, too, worried that Hizashi would appear. “Me neither,” he says, just as quietly. His eyes are rimmed with red. I wonder if he was crying from the pain or for his changed expectations.

“I was worried,” I say. “How are you doing?” My eyes dart up to his forehead, out of my control. There’s nothing visible from underneath the bandages. Would it be easier or harder to comfort him if blood was visible there?

He ducks his head and walks over to sit on his bed. His hand hovers awkwardly above his forehead, as if he wants to touch it, but can’t bring himself to. Sore, most likely.

“It’s sensitive. They said it’s to protect the clan though, so,” he trails off. I swallow my guilt and go to sit next to him. His bed is soft and low to the floor, but the quality isn’t as good as the one in my room. For obvious reasons.

“Protecting the clan is good. But I promise I’ll protect you, too. I won’t let you get hurt,” I say. My hand grabs his own before I realize I even wanted to. But it seems right, so I squeeze his.

Neji finally looks at me. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be,” he whispers, his small mouth pursed. Such a serious little kid. Rules and structure made things easier though. I knew how that was.

“I know, but I want to. It’ll be mutual, okay? That’s how it’s supposed to be.” He doesn’t reply to that, and his eyes drift back down to the ground.

_Ah, fuck it._

I push aside my reservations and pull him into the biggest, tightest bear hug that I can manage. My arms are chubby and weak, but it still feels nice. He makes a tiny noise of surprise, quickly muffled.

“We’re cousins, we’ll stick together. No matter what, okay? That’s what family is for.”

He doesn’t speak at first, but I feel his head brush my shoulder as he nods.

“That… sounds nice,” he says, moments after. His hair tickles the side of my neck.

The heavy feeling in my stomach finally starts to lighten.

He doesn’t show any signs of wanting to pull away, so I reach up to run my fingers through his hair. It’s silky and just as soft as it looks, and the remaining tension in Neji’s body disappears. I can feel the way he breathes, slow and steady. The type of breathing one does when they start to relax.

I wonder if he’s ever been hugged before. His only parent is Hizashi, and he didn’t seem to be the affectionate type.

I don’t ask. I hold him until he finally twitches back, and let him go.

“You shouldn’t be here, you’ll get in trouble,” Neji says. He doesn’t look as miserable as he did when I first came in. That’s a win for today then. A tiny one, but even those count.

“I don’t care, you needed me. That’s more important.” There’s a twitching underneath his bandaged brow that says he might object to the phrasing there, but he doesn’t object.

Even four-year-olds have pride about needing people, I suppose. But it doesn’t make it less true. Everyone needs someone.

“You need to go back, you can’t get caught,” he says, as firmly as he can in a whisper.

He has a point. I’d like to stay the night and make sure my words from before stick to him, and make sure he’s comforted, but… Hizashi would find me for sure. I doubt Father would be blaming _me_ if Neji and Hizashi were right there to condemn instead.

“Okay, but I’ll come by tomorrow. Don’t forget what I told you. Promise me, okay?” I say.

“I promise,” he replies; his voice a childish imitation of Hizashi’s most serious tone.

I can’t help but smile at him, more genuinely than any others I gave that day. It’s easier to climb out the window and head to my room on the way back; everything feels lighter.

 

* * *

 

Breakfast the next morning is tense; not only because I’m waiting for Hiashi to reveal he knew I snuck out all along. There’s an unease in the air, but I’m unable to pinpoint why.

So my thoughts, of course, start giving me various wild suggestions.

_He knows I snuck out, they know I’m a fake Hinata, my heiress status is already being taken away…_

My parents keep looking at each other as they eat. They must have some kind of silent signal because Hiashi puts his chopsticks down and looks directly at me.

“Hinata, we are beginning your training starting today,” he says, studying my face for a reaction.

I know the relief must reveal itself, because of the way his mouth twitches. But relief is better than dread, so I don’t bother covering my ass.

“That sounds great, I’m excited,” I say and stuff a bit of food in my mouth. Chew, swallow. “What kind of training are we doing?” Chakra training would be the best. Knowing I have the ability to do _magic_ and not being able to touch it is pure torture.

“Basic taijutsu. We will start with the Hyuuga kata today, and you will start sparring as soon as possible,” he says. It’s impossible to read his mood, his face is always so stoic.

It’s easy to be desperate for his approval. I want him to be proud of me, despite everything. It would only be worse if I didn’t know the things that I did. For once, I’m thankful that I remember.

“Okay, what time?” I ask, nibbling at the last bits of my rice.

“We will begin as soon as we finish here. Hizashi and Neji will be there as well; he will be a suitable sparring partner for you,” Father says, and stands from the table. The branch clan member who set the table and served us quickly scurries over to start collecting the empty dishes.

“Let’s go get you dressed, Hinata-chan,” Mother says, reaching to help me stand.

“It’s alright, Mother. I can do it on my own. I’ll be out in a second.”

Most of my wardrobe is made up of kimonos or thing similar, but it only takes a few moments to go through my closet and find a loose shirt and matching pants.

God, it feels nice to be wearing comfortable, movable clothes. Even my pajamas were in the form of a nightdress. Pants were a fucking miracle.

When I head back out, Father is already waiting by the door. He nods in approval when he sees what I’m wearing.

The two of us walk into a room I haven’t been to before. That will always be the case; the Hyuuga compound sprawls on for acres, in little seperate buildings. It seems impossible to know every room.

“You will take this seriously; to be an heiress of the Hyuuga is to be a powerful shinobi. You must be strong enough that no one will dare risk the repercussions if they harm any member of the clan,” Hiashi preaches. “If you are weak, it will be as if the clan itself is weak.”

Well, damn. If I was really three, that would be a hell of a way to get me to worry myself into failing.

I’m feeling nervous, and I’m an adult! Well.

Not really. Kind of. It’s weird to think about how old I am, so I try not to.

“I understand, Father. I’ll try my best. Even if I don’t do well, I’ll keep at it until I succeed,” I say. Covering my tracks in the inevitability that Neji kicks my ass.

“Trying makes no difference, there is only the action. Here we are.” He slides open the door to the sparring area.

The room is open, other than a few pillars. It’s made up mostly of wide space; only a select few posters are on the walls, which I’m unable to decipher. I should really practice reading kanji more…

“Hiashi-sama.” Hizashi’s familiar voice comes behind us, and I turn to look at him.

He has Neji besides him; he looks much better than he did last night. Still a little tired-looking, but generally improved. His forehead is still bandaged, but it’s done neatly and the wraps are clean.

A pang of sadness still runs through me at the sight. It was nice to see the blank brow before.

Father bows his head at the two but does not speak.

“Hello, Uncle. Neji,” I greet them and share a smile with Neji.

He blushes a little the greeting, probably because it’s in front of his father. How cute.

“Hinata and I will be going over kata, you two may sit,” Father says, walking to the center of the room. I follow after him and watch carefully as he starts to show me the moves.

In my life before, arthritis prevented me from anything high-impact. Tai-chi, running, any martial arts were out of the question.

But remaining active was necessary so I didn’t get sicker; things like yoga, swimming and weight-lifting had been my best friends. I was no stranger to physical activity. I fucking hated it at first, because chronic pain doesn’t often lend itself to wanting to be active. But determination made anything possible. It ended up being fun, after adjusting to it.

Following along with Father as he shows me the kata feels a lot like yoga.

Less of holding poses though, every motion is fluid and smooth. None of them are entirely separate, they flow into the next move as easily as water.

It’s like dancing. It’s more fun than I expected. Maybe this won’t end up being so bad… At the very least, tolerable. I know I have to become very, very good at this. It’d be nice if I didn’t hate it.

We go over the kata thrice more, before Father steps away and stands in front of me.

“On your own, now,” he orders, crossing his arms over his chest.

The stance starts off easily, one arm out, the other behind. A foot set at an angle, ready to pivot. My hand darts out in a copy of how he showed me before, the other joining in to mimic the moves.

My hand stays flat and open, the fingers pressed together firmly, ready to jab.

Step, step. Jab. Pivot. A hit with the palm of my hand.

The dance comes to an end.

Hiashi stares, impassive and unreadable. “You flick your wrist when you strike. Keep it straight. If you do not, it will fracture.”

Swallowing nervously, I nod my head. He doesn’t say any more, but takes on the beginning stance. “Now use the knowledge against me.”

Things were going way, way too fast. I don’t voice my apprehensions, I could only imagine it going poorly.

My eyes slide over to Neji; he’s watching us both closely. When he sees me looking, he gives a tiny smile.

I copy my father’s stance and jump back as he strikes out at me. Practicing the kata a few times is a far cry from having the muscle memory necessary to use them - my arms come up to block the hit, a clumsy imitation of the block shown before.

Father doesn’t use chakra, but the blow still stings against my forearm. When he moves to strike again, I pivot out of the way of the blow. Barely. His hand skims narrowly against the fabric of my sleeve.

“Strike back!” he commands. Even with his words, he makes no move to wait for me. His hand darts out again, and I duck underneath. The kata from before flashes through my mind, and I jab out at Father’s stomach.

He steps back at the last moment; he’s taking it easy on me. Even so, I’m growing tired. I haven’t exerted myself this much since before I was died.

Despite my low stamina, I push through. When Father hit me earlier, it wasn’t bad. I’m not scared of getting hurt anymore. Getting tattooed hurt more. Getting jumped on by my dog hurt much more.

This is just like a dance. Same as before. With that mindset, my focus sharpens.

Step, step, duck, jab. Twist, smack.

My hand hits the solid center of Father’s chest, and the fact I got a hit at all shocks me into stalling.

A mistake. Father shows no hesitation as his own hand jabs into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

Crashing to the ground, I grab at my stomach and gasp in the little air I’m able.

A chill runs through me, setting all my hair on end. Something feels wrong. It feels dangerous. _I’m going to die._

Wheezing, choking, I can’t stop _remembering._

As soon as the feeling started, a scream sounds from the other side of the room. The hatred, the intense fear, slips away as quickly as it began.

“Father? Father!” Neji cries, scrambling from his sitting position to grab at his father’s side.

Hiashi stands as a barrier between us, his hand in a familiar hand seal.

He stares at his brother. His expression is hidden from me, but I can imagine the anger that I would see there. It’s not directed at me, but it stings all the same.

I want to get up, to stop this. Hizashi can hate me all he wants. He doesn’t deserve this pain.

But when I go to speak, the only thing that comes out is a pathetic wheeze.

I can’t remember how long everything else lasts. Hiashi eventually decides that Hizashi has paid enough with his pain, and dismisses him. I don’t see Neji anywhere, when I manage to sit up.

Hiashi doesn’t help me up, only stares as I stand and meet his eyes.

_You didn’t need to do that. He didn’t do anything._

I keep my mouth shut.

“Do you want to go again?” I ask instead. My voice comes out raspier than intended. Whether from the blow or the panic, I don’t know.

“No,” he says. I can tell that he plans on leaving it there, so I freeze when he speaks again, “You did well.”

Guilt runs through my stomach, almost as brutal as the hit before.

“Thank you.”

I don’t want praise for not flinching at a man screaming in pain. My fighting was average at best.

But Hiashi is my father, and disrespect would only make my life more difficult.

I’ll stop by and see Neji later. Hopefully, he still wants to see me. And even if he doesn’t, I’ll find some way to make things better. I’ll manage somehow, I always do.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea I could write 20 pages in one day. TIL.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some violence later in the chapter.

**Chapter Three:**

 

The rest of my day is spent in bed. Mother was nowhere to be found; she must have been having tea with one of her friends. 

She had many friends. The type of women to meet for lunch and gossip, but no one to introduce to her daughter. No one close.

This would be the ideal time to practice feeling out my chakra - the only person likely to stop me was out of the way. 

But the thing about meditation is that it requires you to relax enough to  _ stop fucking thinking. _

Which is completely impossible at the moment. 

Neji’s terrified face keeps flashing through my brain. The agonized scream of my uncle, the crash of bodily impact against the floor. Both mine and his. 

I know I didn’t make a sound when I fell. But when I remember it, it feels like I was the one screaming.

It’s hard as hell to lie to yourself about dying when the feeling of my heart racing brings it front and center.

I dig my fingers into my hair and  _ tug _ . The sting of pain along my scalp is enough to get the trainwreck of thoughts to come to a halt. It feels easier to breathe, with something to focus on.

Pain isn’t ideal, but it’s better than dying.

Thinking about dying makes me think about my old family, and everything from before.

I’d rather pull entire clumps of hair out than let myself do that.

Meditation and chakra are no-gos for today. My hand itches with the urge to hold a pencil, to create something pretty. Perhaps Neji, with flowers in his hair. Something stylistic, so I could emphasize his flowing hair and tiny, sharp features.

Even as a kid, he was very bony. The opposite of me, with my comfortable cushion of baby fat. 

But letting myself obsess over art is the opposite of productive. If I’m going to fixate on something in this life, it’s damn well going to be something shinobi related. Art wouldn’t be useful, even if it was fun. 

_ Blah. So boring. _

I get out the book of Hyuuga history that Father gifted to me. It’s far above my current age level, but far be it to let that stop him. He doesn’t seem to really understand how 3-year-olds should learn. I may be a fake three-year-old, but I’m still no genius. Average at best.

Neji is smarter than me, probably. And he’s actually four. 

The urge to visit him starts to well up in me; I crush it down. It’s one thing to sneak out to comfort him, but it was his father that was hurt this time.

It was different when it was someone else that got hurt. My words won’t help that. 

I’d probably just make things worse. It was partly my fault the situation even started, after all.

I open the book of history with a thud. The first page is an illustration, surprisingly. A man with clear eyes and long hair, dressed in a traditional yukata. He looks almost samurai-like; the fashion back then lent itself to small details and bead-work. More intricate than anything I’ve seen men wear around the compound. 

Flipping through the pages until I get to the beginning, I read on. 

_ The Hyuuga clan has existed since the beginning of known time. Once a small family, they have grown to become one of the largest clans in history…  _

The book is dull and dry, and I get absorbed into it anyway.

Everything else fades away, until all I can imagine is the clan, as the book expounds on how the dominant -  _ superior _ \- nature of the byakugan gene allowed the Hyuuga to become how they were today.  

It reads like a thesis on how the Hyuuga were better than all other clans but backed up by “facts”. Sure, the facts might be true, but it was all twisted to show only the positives of things.

_ Wow, I could  _ **_never_ ** _ guess who wrote this. _

And as predicted, when I reach the end and flip back to the opening statement that I skipped,  _ Keizo Hyuuga _ is listed as the author. 

How very unexpected. 

Checking the clock, hanging high on my wall, only makes my restlessness start to stir again. Only two hours had passed since I started. Reading made time go fast, but not fast enough.

My life would be so much easier if the internet existed. It’s hard to binge research as a distraction when I’m limited to the books I have in my room. 

And there’s only  _ so _ many times I can read children’s books. The picture ones were nice but only made me ache to draw. And that wasn’t allowed anymore. 

Instead, I clamber out of bed and do a few stretches.

I remember the warm-up exercises I did in my life before, and they are simple enough that I can still do them in my tiny body.

I touch my toes. I flex my arms above my head. Rinse, repeat.

I’m standing on one foot, the other pulled up against my butt when a little clicking noise comes from my window.

Off balance already, the involuntary jump that my body does sends me falling forward. I catch myself on my hands, but when I look up to see who’s in my window, Neji’s face stares back at me. 

He looks amused, the little shit. I can feel the blood rushing to my face, and know I must look like a tomato. 

I stand up as if nothing happened and go to let him inside. “Now who’s the one sneaking out?” I snark, resolutely avoiding eye contact until my face feels like it’s less blazing.

My embarrassment only makes the amount of happiness I feel at seeing him even harder to deal with. It feels like reliance.

“I… do you want me to leave?” Neji asks, stilted and cautious. His eyes are red; his hesitation about coming here makes my bruised pride disappear. I promised him before that’d I’d help. 

“Of course not! Sorry, I was just…. Sorry.” God, Hinata. Way to act like a three-year-old much?

He doesn’t reply, and now that I’m paying attention, I can see the signs of strain in his expression. Even with the bandages, the crease between his brows is visible. With the day that he had, it’s not surprising.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I reach out to grab his hand in mine and lead him to go sit down on the bed. This is the first time he’s actually been in my room; Mother always had us play in his. 

“What’s wro- What’s up?” I ask. I don’t notice I’ve been gnawing at my bottom lip until a piece of skin peels off; my lips were going to be chapped for days now. “I mean… how are you feeling?”

Neji looks at me with his eyebrows raised and mouth curved downward, a silent _ ‘Isn’t it obvious?’  _

I open my mouth and close it again. A million things pop into my mind to say -

_ I’ll never do that to you. _

_ It was wrong. I’m sorry he got hurt. _

_ I’ll protect you.  _

None of them are good enough. They won’t make things any better or any different. They won’t change the past.

I reach out and pull Neji into my arms. Not as tight of a hug this time. I don’t want to break him, and it feels like I can. His hand grips the back of my shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper through the knot in my throat. Neji’s hand grips tighter and then let go. 

He may not be hugging back, but I hold him until his breathing, uneven and shallow, evens out.

When I pull back, he’s looking at the floor. He’s a mirror image of me from before; his mouth opens, then closes. When he finally speaks, it’s to ask, “Are you okay? You fell… before.”

God, Neji deserved better than these fucked up Hyuugas. Better than me, for sure.

“I’m okay now. Not hurt at all. What happened before,” I take a deep breath, “I’ll make sure it never happens to you. I don’t know if you… worried about that. You both deserve- better. Than being hurt.” 

My Japanese is almost fluent, and I still find myself lacking the words to say the right thing. The words that will make things  _ okay _ are always out of my reach. 

“Father… he said it was my duty to protect you. That my feelings don’t matter,” Neji says. He’s staring at the picture of birds hung my wall. His hair is messier than usual, parts of it are falling out from where he had it tied back. “I don’t understand why Hiashi-sama hurt him. He didn’t…” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. But I can guess well enough what he’s thinking.

I lick my bottom lip, still raw from being chewed on. “No, he didn’t deserve it. My father... he doesn’t react well when people get angry. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” 

_ I’m sorry. _ It feels stupid and empty, to keep saying the words. But there’s nothing else to take their place. 

I tell myself, next time I’ll speak up. Next time I’ll stop it.

My father’s face flashes through my head, disdainful and disappointed.

It’s hard to tell if I’m lying to myself.

Neji exhales. The skin around his eyes is puffy and red. It’s hard to tell if there are tears in his eyes with how glass-like they already are. I rest my hand on his anyway. It can’t hurt things.

We don’t speak again for the rest of the night.

But he lets me comfort him, and the unhappy tilt of his mouth eases a small bit. 

Mother comes home late and peeks into my room. The lights are still on, Neji is laying facing the window. His head bends forward; it’s easy to hear when the door opens. But he doesn’t lift his head or look at her. 

She opens her mouth to speak. I glare as quickly as I can, a wordless  _ ‘Please don’t kick him out.’  _ My mother, long practiced at reading my expressions, obeys. She stares for a long moment, face unreadable, but steps away. She leaves the door cracked open.

 

* * *

 

Neji stays the night. We’re only children, after all. Culture may be strict here, but it’s loosened for small children. Hyuuga children, less so, but still. The point stands.

The bed is a lot colder than it was a few hours ago. I grumble, Neji must have left sometime that morning. I need thicker blankets...

When I finally manage to drag myself out of bed and out to be living, Hiashi already sits at the dining table, sipping tea. He must have known Neji stayed over; Father knows everything.

He doesn’t say anything to me even so, only continues to sip his tea placidly. He must be feeling guilty over yesterday, I can’t imagine any other reason he wouldn’t take this opportunity to lecture me. 

“Where’s Mother?” I ask, climbing into my chair. 

“She had business to take care of. She will be back in a few hours,” he replies. Breakfast was light today, there were only a few simple dishes to pick from. 

Unwittingly, images of fresh salmon sashimi on top of rice flash through my head. Rolls with soft avocado and soy sauce. I sigh.

Ugh, I could fucking kill for some sushi. I’m in Konoha, it should be readily available. Stupid baby stomachs, not allowed to eat raw fish.

Only minutes later I realize my food is already half gone and force myself to slow down. If Mother isn’t going to be here for a few hours, that means… I’ll probably end up being bored. Again.  

“Father, is there any way I could… get more books like that history one you gave me?” I ask, peering at him up through my bangs. Puppy eyes activated. 

A pause. He looks considering. “Did you understand it?” He asks, instead of giving me an answer.

I wish things could just be simple for once. “Yes.  _ Even clans such as the Uchiha have descended from the Hyuuga, as most clans with dojutsu have,” _ I recite a line that stuck in my thoughts, preemptively hoping that my elaboration means he’ll just agree and leave it at that. I’m three-years-old, I don’t be drilled about schoolwork yet.

“Hm.” Hiashi continues to stare at me. It feels like he’s looking more intently at me than he has since I was born. I feel exposed. Knowing he did have x-ray vision doesn’t really help that feeling go away. “Yes, I will have more books sent to your room. I expect you to give me a summary of whichever you choose to read.”

I resist the urge to make a disgusted face; Father would take offense to that. “Of course, Father,” I say instead. At least it would just be like a literature class. That was usually fun, even with strict professors.

Thank god they weren’t trying to teach me math yet. I knew it would start out simple, but the ingrained dread has been a part of my psyche for years. The fact that it’s addition and not algebra wouldn’t change that. 

Father seems to be in one of his more contemplative moods, he doesn’t say anything at all when I leave the table before he dismisses me. I suppose the other shoe isn’t going to drop after all.

Well. Whatever, it’s not my problem. He’s  _ my _ parent, I don’t need to be his therapist. He’ll come to me if he needs to.

I head back to my room.

 

* * *

 

 

Just as predicted, Mother comes back within an hour. It’s hard to miss, her usual silent steps are audible from the second she comes home. She’ll be heading to me... any… second now…

My door slides open. “Hinata-chan, I have a surprise for you!” she says and heads directly over to me. I’ve been sitting on my bed, practicing kanji by rewriting the words in my books. 

I’m grateful shinobi parenting involves so much ‘hands-off’ behavior, but damn, no wonder the culture is so violent. Everyone snaps from boredom. 

I set down my little notebook and raise my eyebrows at her. “What is it?”

My mother still is a Hyuuga, after all, and I can’t imagine any surprises from any of them being pleasant. Just as a general rule. 

_ Haha, surprise, you’ve been disinherited! Congratulations on being branch now.  _

Even in my thoughts, it’s hard to picture Hiashi laughing. 

My mother takes no heed of my distraction and instead heads to my closet. She flips through the coats and hats that I have; more than the original Hinata, I think. I actually complained about being cold. 

“We’re going to be heading out for a few hours today,” she said, lifting up an indigo overcoat. She looks over at me in consideration. I shake my head and point at the prettier rose-pink one. It didn't look as flattering on me, but it was certainly cozier. It also had a fur collar. Clearly, it was superior.

“Out… like on the compound?” I ask. The other possibility, that I’m going out into the actual village, seems impossible. My whole world was the compound.

“No, but it’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be in the village for a few minutes, and then somewhere just as secure as home,” she says. She comes over with the clothes she picked out; the coat I requested and a matching hat. 

If it were possible for humans to purr, I absolutely would. The hat must have been made of cashmere, I hadn’t touched things nearly as soft in my before-life. 

Having money was fucking great. 

But oh. Shit. I’m actually going outside.

I feel my cheeks go red at how delayed my reaction was to Mother’s words. “Why are we going out?” I ask, hoping my long pause went unnoticed. 

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, Hinata-chan,” she scolds me, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She takes my hand in her own and leads me  _ out _ of the compound.

The things I saw that weren’t a part of the Hyuuga property I could count on one hand.

Trees. The ones that grew so high that they were visible no matter what part of Konoha you were from.

Mountain. Just the one, singular. It was more of a cliff, really. It was the same as the trees; high enough for me to spot no matter what.

One path, also singular. I wasn’t often allowed near the gates out of the compound, but on the rare occasion I was near them, I could spot the paved path down into the village. We were still far away enough from the general population that it was only the path that I saw. 

But now as I walk hand-in-hand with Mother and exit those gates, excitement rushes through me. Nervous excitement, but it’s easier for me to ignore the nerves. 

The path we walk on is paved concrete, hard and smooth. It’s only a few minutes walk until the actual village comes into sight. 

_ Holy shit. _

Buildings made of wood, painted all different shades, make up a kaleidoscope of colors. They are built tall, to last decades. Not as high as skyscrapers, but taller than anything I’ve ever seen in this life. The buildings are all close enough to touch, but the windows are large and open. There’s a young woman standing inside one of the shops, her hair vibrantly green. She’s laughing, an undignified cackle. It’s beautiful.

All around us, people walk. Men stand off to the side, chattering to each other with smiles on their faces. Others just continue on, determined to get to their destination but with no real hurry.

Everything is so bright. Not at all like the compound, made up of neutrals and perfectly maintained hardwood.

The store nearby us has little chips in the paint, showing the white primer underneath. Imperfections visible to the eye. 

My hand is clenched tightly around Mother’s. I only notice when she gives it a little tug. 

“We have to keep going, Hinata-chan. It’s not a long walk,” she says. The awe I’ve felt starts to fade. All at once, it hits me that compared to all these people, who are bright and happy and full of life, we don’t fit in. 

But we are happy, in our own way. The way people stiffen self-consciously as we walk past says that doesn’t show.

The wife of the Hyuuga head and the little heiress. 

_ Don’t you know they’re all stiff and dignified? Don’t be disrespectful. They’ll make you regret it,  _ I can imagine the people thinking.

I nod my head and allow her to lead me; my feet are on autopilot.

More than anything, I want my byakugan. To turn my eyes on and see throughout the whole village. I don’t care if I stand apart from the crowd, I just want to be able to  _ see _ it.

A person in a white flak-jacket stands to chat up a pretty salesgirl. I don’t blame him for trying; she was a stunner. Long brown hair tied back into a braid. I’d probably try to talk to her if I was older too. And if she wasn’t working.

My ‘surprise’ is all but forgotten as I spend the entire walk taking in everything I possibly can. There’s even a little dog on its walk. With Mother holding my hand, there’s no way I can ask to pet it. Instead, I settle for lifting my hand and giving it a little wave.

“Ah, we’re here, Hinata-chan,” she says. Her face is neutral, but her voice has taken on the controlled, subdued edge it always has when in public.

The smell of smokey BBQ had been drifting through the streets, but only grows stronger as we walk through the little road. Here there are restaurants aplenty, whole foods stores and food carts are not in the minority here.

A few houses, scattered between the stores. It’s all cramped, but not in an uncomfortable way.

There’s a round-faced man standing beside one of the food carts; he smiles at me when our eyes meet. The smile I give back is completely natural. It’s nice to see people who I’m not somehow related to. Who don’t avoid my eye contact. 

When we finally come to a stop, it’s in front of a house. Painted blue with white shutters, there’s a little vegetable garden visible from over the fence off to the side. Even in winter, Konoha has no trouble growing plants. It’s amazing, really.

The sight of the fresh heirloom tomatoes makes my stomach grumble. BBQ and nightshades, it’s like this trip is solely dedicated to torturing me. I love the traditional Japanese food I have at home, but it’s always the same, or at least similar, every day. This girl craves some variety for once.

My mother knocks on the door with her free hand.

“One moment!” I hear through the door, and hear the unmistakable sound of someone rushing down the stairs. Not at all light-footed. 

The door opens a moment later, and a plump woman dressed in a lovely wrap-dress stands before us. She wears an apron, folded over the bottom half of her body.

“Hisako-san! It’s so nice to see you again,” she greets with a smile. Her cheeks are tinted pink with deep coral swirls on them. “And this must be Hinata-chan. Your mother’s told me quite a bit about you, it’s nice to meet you,” her voices highers itself considerably when she speaks to me, but still, she talks as if I’m still a person. It’s not too patronizing.

I decide I like her. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I reply and bow my head.

“Oh, that’s not necessary. It’s so nice to have a playdate for my son, all his cousins are years older than him- and well. You know how it is.” She chuckles, giving my mother a commiserating look. 

“I do believe I do, Akimichi-san,” my mother replies, her mask loosening enough to give a small smile in return.

_ Akimichi, huh?  _

“Hisako-san, please. I’ve told you, you can call me Kimiko. It’s only fair, after all,” Akimichi says.

That would explain all the nice smells. Knowing that the food must taste as good as it smells makes my mouth water.

“Well, you two come on in. Choji is in the living room, you can just head on over there, Hinata-chan. I’m making some afternoon snacks, Hisako-san, I have some tea ready for you,” she says, opening the door wider and gesturing us inside.

The interior of the house is just as warm and homely as it was outside. The colors were all warm-shades, and the toys scattered around only added to the atmosphere. There are pictures of a small boy on a cabinet, along with pictures of Akimichi and her husband, looking at each other with wide grins.

It felt like somewhere a real family lived. It was the complete opposite of the compound, where everything had an order to it.

Just as Akimichi said, there was a small boy sitting on the living room floor, coloring on a pad with a red crayon. He had a shock of bright copper hair, with pleasantly chubby cheeks.

This was the first time I was going to speak to someone actually  _ my _ age. Neji was a year older than me, after all.

As nice as it was to meet another person my age, the timing of this surprise play date was questionable. The day after Neji sleeps over, Mother brings me to be distracted by someone else.

Well, branch members weren’t there to be  _ friendly.  _ I shake off the scorn that starts to set in; maybe it was just a coincidence. 

I approach despite my growing anxiety and sit down in front of him.

“Hi,” I say, “My name’s Hinata. My mom brought me over to play.”

Choji looks up at me with big eyes, his mouth parted in surprise.

“Hi,” he says, stuttering and cautious. He didn’t have any friends in the manga when he was a kid, right?

It was so long ago, it’s hard to remember things that didn’t pertain to myself.

There’s a tiny prick of irritation that sets in over having to be the person who instigates everything. If I had to hang out with someone shy, I’d prefer Neji. But it’s immature, so I viciously press it down. 

“What are you drawing?” I ask, moving over so I’m looking at his drawing straight-on. We are side by side; his shoulders pull upwards defensively. 

Three-years-old and already self-conscious. 

That just wasn’t fair. I sling my arm over his shoulders and point towards a red scribble on the page. “I like that part. Is it a butterfly?” I ask.

Choji doesn’t reply for a moment; his eyes had grown large at my show of casual contact. But his shoulders slowly loosen, and he nods his head. “Y-yeah. It’s my favorite color.”

“Me too! Well, I like this color best,” I point to the rosy pink shade of my coat, “But it’s pretty close, don’t you think?” 

Choji nods his head a few times, eager to agree. “I think I have a crayon like that,” he says. There’s a box of 48 crayon colors beside him, he reaches to pick through it until he finds the shade that matches decently close to my coat.

A bit on the pinker side, but still pretty. 

“Um… do you want to draw with me?” Choji asks, staring down at his paper notebook. His cheeks, bare of any markings, are flushed a shade of red that even I’d find difficult to reach.

“Yeah!” I say. I grin widely when he looks at me, his mouth twitching. It doesn’t take him long to manage a full albeit shaky smile back at me. 

He rips out a few pages of his notebook and hands them to me, along with the pink crayon. The box of other colors is placed in front of us, easy for either of us to reach.

The tiny itch of annoyance disappears, not even a lingering of it left behind. A warm feeling replaces it; Neji and Choji were considerate little guys. Neji may be my priority, but having other friends would be acceptable.

Half the 20-year-old men I knew before wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. It wasn’t so bad. 

I supposed learning to be the one making decisions and doing most of the talking was a good skill to keep, anyway. If I was going to lead a clan one day, I better start learning to like it. 

The crayon feels foreign in my hand; I had used coloring books, but my avoidance of drawing completely on its own was… while not completely intentional, it was definitely something I was aware of. And didn’t make any effort to change.

The possibility of drawing something and having all my skill from before just… gone, was too hard to think about. I didn’t know how much of art was muscle memory, and how much was just ingrained from practice.

I didn’t really want to find out.

But I guess I was going to anyway. 

_ Eh. Fuck it. _

I start to scribble a rose with my crayon. It’s not terrible. Not as good as it would have been before I died, but still noticeably flower-like.

The lines are shaky and unpracticed, but the petals still flow outwards in an overlapping array. 

A breath I didn’t know was holding lets out. 

I haven’t completely lost my touch then. Something heavy disappears from my heart. I draw a peony to match the rose. Then a few daisies. 

And then, just to show off, I scribble tiny chibi versions of me and Choji. 

“Woah! That’s… really good, Hinata-chan,” Choji says, leaning over to get a closer look at my doodles. 

A smug grin starts to form; I quickly force the other corner of my mouth to rise so it looks more genuine. The smugness wasn’t a good look. I could feel it, but showing it was different.

“Thanks! Your stuff is really good too,” I say. He’d been drawing more butterflies; the new ones were multicolored. A dark blue outline, with bright purple and pink patterns. “I really like that one.” I point to the butterfly with little pink hearts inside of it.

Choji flushes red again, his head ducks. “Thanks… there’s a boy down the street, he always makes fun of my stuff. Says drawing is for girls.” Choji bites his lip after he says that, quickly looking off to the side. I suppose I’m a girl, maybe he doesn’t want me to be offended?

“Well, he’s just a di- He’s just being mean for the heck of it. I love your stuff.” I knock my shoulder lightly against his. “And drawing is for anybody who likes it. He’s probably just jealous that he’s bad at it,” I say, nodding my head a few times. The more confident one was in speaking, the more likely the other person would believe it.

Choji's blush does fade, and he stares down at his paper.

“Um, here! You can have it.” He shoves the drawing he did at me. The corner of it is wrinkled, and I smooth it out once it’s in my hands. 

“Thank you, Choji-kun. I’ll take good care of it.” I grin back at him and slide my own little set of doodles over to him. “You can have mine, then.” 

Akimichi comes out with a plate of little sandwiches and a smile. She places them on the little table near us, “You two look like you’re having fun! Here’s a little snack for you two, Hinata-chan, your mother said she’ll bring you home in a half hour. So eat up now!”

Gladly, I do. The sandwiches have some sort of sweet cranberry jam and cream cheese insides. 

The urge to moan in appreciation is easy to resist, thankfully. I can’t be completely undignified. 

It’s been so,  _ so _ long since I had anything sweet that wasn’t fruit. 

I could kiss Akimichi-san. 

“Your mom’s cooking is really good!” I say, barely managing to swallow before complimenting her. 

“Yeah!” Choji agrees. He’s eating his own little sandwiches, but he still nods his head vigorously at my words. “She’s, uh, really good at making everything. I like her barbeque best, though.” 

“You should invite me over whenever she makes that next. It sounds so good…” Thoughts of tender, sauce-covered meat fill my mind. My stomach rumbles again.

I eat another sandwich. 

“I would but, uh, I’ve never seen you around the village,” Choji says, wiping his mouth with the little napkins Akimichi provided. 

“Oh, right. I don’t leave the Hyuuga compound, mostly. But if you tell your Mom you wanna meet up, I’m sure she’ll be able to talk to my mom,” I say. It seems mostly true, even if I’m not one hundred percent sure about it. My Mother didn’t often leave the compound either, after all.

“Right… um, my cousin says that Hyuuga can see through walls and see when you’re naked. Is that… true?” Choji asks and then rubs at his neck. His eyes avoid mine.

I wonder if he’s nervous about my eyes, or feeling awkward after asking an invasive question?

I decide on the second; he’s a sweet kid. He’s probably still working on his social skills.

“Well, I don’t have the byakugan yet. So I don’t know. But we’re very good at privacy, so even if we can, we wouldn’t. Boundaries are important,” I say, finishing up the last of the sandwiches. I wasn’t sure if what I said was true, but even if some Hyuuga did spy like that, I doubt anyone would know it. The part about privacy was true, at the very least. 

Keeping your mouth shut was an acquired trait. All Hyuugas learned it, sooner or later. 

I’m pretty sure I ate more than Choji did. Oops. Well, if he wants more, I’m sure he can ask his mom. Lucky kid.

“I believe you!” he says in a rush. “I didn’t think my cousin was telling the truth about it anyway.” 

“I have a cousin too. He’s my best friend,” I say. “You two would get along, I think. His name is Neji, he’s a year older than us.”

“Oh, um. He sounds nice,” Choji says, fidgeting with his hands. I didn’t give him much to go on, but he’s still eager to please. My mouth twitches despite myself; I didn’t realize how cute kids could be. 

“He has long hair, down to his waist. He’s serious but very kind.” To me. “He’s been showing me ninja-tricks. I’m going to be a kunoichi one day.”

“I’m going to be a shinobi too,” Choji says, rubbing the back of his neck. “My dad is, so I’m gonna be one too.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be a great shinobi!” He doesn’t react at that, there’s no flattered smile like I expected. Hmm. “I’m sure you’ll be great at anything you want to do. Maybe your mom can teach you how to cook and then I’ll get to take advantage of all the yummy food,” I change the subject.

He does giggle at that and nods his head. Aha, that worked better. “Maybe.” 

I don’t know how much longer we go on like that; I enjoy myself more than I expected to.

It’s nice, to show different parts of myself. 

Picking and choosing what to be in a situation isn’t hard, it’s always come naturally to me. But it’s a lot easier to have fun when I’m letting myself be that kind of person.

Being light-hearted and easy-going is not a Hyuuga heiress trait, after all.

The walk home with my mother is quiet again. Inside the coat of my pocket is a folded up drawing of butterflies and a rose pink crayon.

 

* * *

 

 

Truth be told, I forgot about a certain incident.

I knew it was going to happen, of course.  _ The Hyuuga affair _ was an entire entry on the Naruto Wikipedia, and I had spent hours on that site in my early teens. 

Researching a certain pink haired kunoichi in order to write embarrassing fanfiction about her and her best friend, but that was something I preferred to block out.

I was going to meet her one day, after all. I didn’t want to remember all the romantic art I drew featuring her. 

God, and all the SakuHina art. Yeah, that was a memory that definitely needed repressing.

But either way, knowing something is going to happen isn’t the same thing as truly  _ expecting _ it.

I thought I had more time. It didn’t truly sink in, that I knew the future. 

I lay in bed, using a giant sea whale plush as a pillow. My thoughts as fuzzy and slow, barely at all conscious. The quiet sound of my window opening brings me away. 

I wouldn’t have noticed it at all, if it wasn’t for Neji and I using them over the doors. It caused a hypersensitivity of a type.

When I turn to see why Neji needs me so late, it’s not his familiar face that I see.

A man, giant and bulky with muscles, stares back at me. His face is covered with a mask, not even an eye is visible.

The monster - the man - tilts his head at me. 

I’m not supposed to be awake. The knowledge of that hits me hard. 

It’s almost midnight. _ I’m not supposed to be awake. _

My mouth is opened, ready to scream.

Before I can make a single noise, he leaps.

His hand is as big as my entire face, it suppresses any noise I make. It covers my nose.

When I try to breathe, it’s suppressed and shallow. 

The man lifts me as easily as a sack of potatoes, like I don’t weigh anything.

I try to scream. I thrash. Kicking my legs feels useless.

I’m so  _ small _ . 

Nothing gets any reaction. I’m dragged from my bed, back to the window.

I  _ bite. _

He’s wearing gloves, but they are thin and yielding beneath my teeth. 

The taste of blood fills my mouth. His grip loosens the tiniest amount. It’s all I need.

I have enough wiggle room to grab his littlest finger in my mouth and  _ clench _ .

A  _ crack _ sounds in the room.

A sharp intake of breath. “Little  _ brat _ ,” he hisses.

My head slams against the wall. 

Everything goes black.

 

* * *

Consciousness comes back slowly.

The floor is moving below me, but I’m not walking.

There’s a pain along the front of my head, it pangs sharply when my head lolls to the side. 

Ow.

Even the pain feels muffled. It hurts, but it’s hard to care.

I want to sleep.

My eyes drift closed.

 

* * *

 

 

I wake again when I crash to the floor.

_ Ow. _

I inhale sharply and blink my eyes open. 

It’s hard to tell what I see, at first.

A man with long black hair. Disheveled enough that I don’t recognize him. His yukata is wrinkled.

_ Oh. Father. _

There’s a mountain of a man before me, blocking the rest of my view.

I try to open my mouth, to talk, to call out for Father, but all that I can manage is a pathetic cough.

There’s something wet smeared over my mouth. I still taste copper.

The scene that happens before me is like a movie.

Father, byakugan activated, strikes at him. It looks familiar to the kata he showed me before but in fast-forward. Too quick for my eyes to follow.

He’s like a panther, fast and dangerous. He has no hesitation. 

The other man - the Kumo ninja - may be big, but Father is stronger.

There’s no blood when he falls to the ground. It’s a clean death.

No one would be able to tell that the head wound that came when he crashed was post-mortem. 

It’s only after the fall that the blood spills.

Out of the back of his head, where he crashed.

Father removes his mask.

There’s blood, trickling from his mouth.

_ Oh. _ From his hand, where a finger is missing.

It’s all very red. 

My eyes slip shut. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say, thank you so much to everyone who has commented or left kudos! I'm so happy that everyone's been enjoying the story so far, knowing people are reading makes me really inspired to keep writing. So, thank you. :)
> 
> Fun fact, as I was plotting this the working title was "Death Defying Acts", after the Angus and Julia Stone song. It's a really good song if anyone wants to check it out. 
> 
> Also, have some bb Hinata doodles I did: https://sta.sh/0128k1rjl664


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listen to music pretty obsessively when I write this so, another Revenant!Hinata song.
> 
> The Manic by Amarante.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2Gz73XPIuA

**Chapter 4:**

 

When I wake up, it’s not in a hospital room. It’s also not my bedroom.

My sight is blurry, which is a rarity in of itself. Even when I blink away the grogginess and wipe the crusties from the corners of my eyes, it doesn’t fade.

I rub at my eyes, pressing harder than I probably should. But it works, when I open my eyes, things are clearer again.

God bless Hyuuga eyesight.

Not a hospital, but certainly very similar to one. There’s the sharp smell of antiseptic in the air. There are neutral cabinets off to the side of the room; I’d bet my life on it that they were stocked full of medical supplies. A complete lack of anything containing personality or interior design skills.

Even the compound was decorated with tradition and class. This was just bland.

I wouldn’t have been surprised to see that stupid little pain chart on the walls, with the smiley faces.

But the walls are blank.

That’s what mostly tips me off to still being in the compound. Even Konoha hospital would put me in a children's room - all hospitals had them - with patterned wallpaper, maybe. Some sort of posters to try to brighten the room, make it less terrifying for a kid. At the very least, there’d be a nurse. I’d be hooked up to a machine.

I was familiar enough with hospitals; I’d be in and out of them for years, before.

But there’s none of that. I’m completely alone.

I try to push myself up into a sitting position, but the fuzziness in my brain gives a sharp sting.

 _Oh_. Not my brain, then. My forehead.

I remember hitting the wall, vaguely.

And then everything that came after that.

_Shit._

The first thing that comes to mind is the Kumo-nin’s body. A man died in front of me.

It’s easier than expected to quash down the feelings that come with that. He was a dick who tried to kill me. If anyone had it coming to them, it was him. Even if I wasn’t really mentally three, I was still a kid. Sort of. People who tried to abduct kids deserved to die.

Other people had priorities here. Specifically, people who were related to me.

How long had I been sleeping? Maybe -- If I threw a fit, they wouldn’t send Hizashi out.

But then it’d be Hiashi. The rolling feeling in my stomach grows stronger.

There’s a trash can beside the bed, thankfully. It’s close, for ease of access.

I tug it up between my legs, but the vomiting never occurs. It seems like my stomach of steel is something that stuck with me throughout lives.

Nausea still prevails, even as the urgency of emptying my stomach fades. It’s uncomfortable, but so are lots of things. The stiffness in my body that tells of at least a day without movement, the sharp stinging of the bump on my forehead.

I set the trash can back to the ground. My hands and grip are clumsy; it clangs against the floor when I drop it.

Hizashi was going to die, because of me. Because I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t strong enough.

I didn’t try hard enough to change things. I fought, but there’s little a three-year-old with little to no training could do against a Kumo jounin.

Excuses, excuses.

If it was Neji, I would have still tried harder.

It’s… hard to realize that.

Understatement of the year.

My heart’s racing just at the thought. To know that I was completely unrepentant that a man was sent to his death because the people I loved were going to live.

_God, I’m such a bitch._

The door to my little recovery room slides open, shocking me out of my thoughts. A branch member - most likely, given the strategically placed forehead protector - stares at me with wide eyes. “Hinata-sama! You’re awake,” he exclaims.

I stare at him. All the things I can think to say are snarky to the point of rude or involve things that I shouldn’t know. I nod my head once.

“I’ll go get your father,” he says, scurrying away and leaving the door open.

There’s a draft in the air, now. I gather the thin cotton blankets folded at the bottom of my bed and cover my body with them. They don’t do too much, but even the single layer helps me stay a bit warmer.

Just as I finish cocooning myself, Father appears at the door.

He looks better than the last time I saw him. But not by much.

His hair is back in its usual tail, and his clothes are pressed neatly in the traditional fashion typical of him.

But the skin around his eyes is nearly translucent, the veins visible. The dark circles more prominent than ever.

If it wasn’t for that, I could never tell that he was worried.

I’m not positive if he was worried about me or if the Hizashi situation was causing it. I hope it was me, at least a little bit.

“How long have I been asleep?” I ask. My eyes are wide as I stare up at him. If I didn’t have them as open as possible, I might want to start crying.

And if I was going to cry, there’s no way in hell it’d be in front of Father.

Hiashi doesn’t reply and instead, sits in the chair beside my bed. He, for once, looks like he’s at a loss for words.

“Almost three days,” he replies after ages. “You had a severe concussion.”

It _is_ still Hiashi, after all. There’s no worrying that a kid might not know the word for concussion.

How useless I am. Neji had been alone for three days already, he must be going out of his mind. I still don’t know if Hizashi is alive. _Naruto’s_ timeline was impossible to understand.

How long did it take for a man to be sacrificed?

I lick my bottom lip; it’s dry and chapped, as usual. The taste of blood must be gone from my mouth my mouth now, it’s been three days, but the ghost of it still lingers.

“I remember what happened. Where’s Mother?” I ask. I do want to know, even if my mind is all but blaring to _ask about Hizashi._

“She’s with your cousin. Once she knows you’re awake, she will come to you,” he says. His eyes are on my own, searching.

I don’t know what he’s looking for. I doubt he finds it.

My hand is comfortably warm under the blankets, but I reach outside of them anyway. I run my fingertips over the scabbed part of the skin on my forehead. “Why didn’t the man just use chakra to knock me out?” I ask.

Better to get out the lesser questions I have first. Patience is important.

Father inhales deeply, but his sigh is completely silent. “If a person is aware of it incoming, using chakra to render them unconscious will cause a flare in their chakra. It will be noticeable to any nearby who can sense things such as that,” he explains. Even stressed, he’s able to lecture.

Good to know.

“How did you know what happened to me? I tried to scream, but I couldn’t,” I say. My voice comes out blank. I don’t think about it too deeply.

There’s the memory of panic, still in my chest. Muffled though, like trying to look at a stone through the murky waves of the ocean. It feels like it happened to someone else.

Most things do, to me.

Hiashi doesn’t speak, for a long time. He’s not looking at me anymore,  but instead, his eyes are focused on a small speck of peeling paint on the wall.

I’m sure it’d be fixed within the week. All imperfections of the Hyuuga compound are not visible to the eye.

When he finally replies, it’s with a carefully blank voice, “As your father, there is always a part of me aware of your chakra. Even without any strong flaring, it was easy to tell something was wrong.”

There was definitely no genetic gift to sense your child’s chakra. So that meant it was all Hiashi.

That was as probably as close as I’d ever get to him saying he loved me.

“Thank you,” I say. It’s all I can manage - I don’t know what else to say. Father would have died for me. It’s a foreign feeling.

I don’t know if he regrets his actions - I don’t want to know. He could have another kid, he couldn’t get another brother.

If Hizashi didn’t step in, it’d be Hiashi’s corpse handed over to corrupt Kumo ninja.

The guilt of being thankful that it wasn’t _my_ father’s corpse feels worse than any of the pains in my body.

It would have been for the clan, for the village. But also for me. If it wasn’t for my existence, Hizashi would still be living too.

“You are the heir of the Hyuuga,” he replies as if that explains all.

I suppose it did. I was the future of the main clan. Most Hyuuga would die for me if they were told to.

I’m an imposter with questionable morals, a penchant for dramatics and a tendency to bottle up my emotions. I don’t deserve people who would die for me.

_Hah. I fit right in._

“Why is Neji with Mother?” I ask after swallowing a few times, desperate to change the subject. The perfect lead-in question for him to drop the bomb on Hizashi.

Even with Father’s perfectly maintained mask of indifference, I think I see something flash behind his eyes.

It’s gone as quickly as it started, and I don’t know him nearly well enough to guess at what he’s feeling.

Grief? Probably. Guilt? Most definitely.

It’s all still guesswork. Most likely me projecting my own feelings onto his own.

“Hizashi is dead. Your mother is moving Neji into the empty room in our quarters,” he says. His face is blank.

Wow. Blunt much?

I can’t remember if Neji lived with them - us - in the manga. Maybe? Maybe my parents just knew I’d throw a fit if they sent him off to random clan members.

Even knowing it was coming, my breath comes out shaky. “It’s my fault,” I say. I bite down hard on my tongue after the words come out.

I never say things unintentionally. I must be really out of it.

It’s hard to tell, with all of my negative feelings compartmentalized far away from my waking brain.

Bitterness though, bitterness was impossible to escape.

Hiashi doesn’t say anything at first. That only says clearly enough that _Yes, He died as a result of my part in things._

“Hizashi died for the clan. It was honorable,” Father tells me. It’s obvious that’s all he’s going to say.

My cheeks twitch into a grin, sharp and withering and bitter. More of a grimace than a true smile. It only lasts a flash, but regret pools immediately over my inability to control myself.

Kids shouldn’t be scornful. Being told your uncle is dead doesn’t cause derision, it causes sadness.

It’d be better if I cried. But Hiashi’s face is still expressionless.

“Neji’s going to be heartbroken,” I say. The conversation should have ended there, but ending a conversation in which I grin over someone’s death - even if it wasn’t a happy one - is no way to leave a conversation.

People always remember the endings of things. I didn’t want Father to disinherit me for my caustic streak. He _was_ prone to that kind of thing.

“Neji will be our ward,” Father says.

“Can I see him?” I ask. I push the blankets off of my body, letting them lay crumpled at the end of the infirmary bed. My hair feels messy against my skull; I run my hand through it to try to neaten it, but it just feels greasy and gross. I need a bath.

“...The medic will check you over for signs of lingering injury. Then we may go to our rooms,” he says.

Impatient energy runs through my body, making my hands twitch and my knee to bounce. The medic looks annoyed at my inability to sit still but doesn’t comment.

My vitals are fine. My forehead is rebandaged; I’m told it’ll be completely healed in a week. Absolutely no one mentions any possibility of trauma from seeing my father murder someone. Of biting off a man’s finger. It’s as if nothing happened at all.

If not for the bandage on my head and the sudden lack of an uncle, it’d be easy to pretend all was well.

The walk home is slow, Hiashi makes no effort to walk quicker even with my clear anxiety to run to Neji. Though he also makes no sign of acknowledging it, which I’m grateful for.

It makes no sense that I want to rush; I have no idea what to say to Neji.

I’d give him space if I didn’t know that it wouldn’t work out well.

_Neji, 14 and going on and on about fate. About hopelessness of his life and full to the brim of repressed anger that he’s not allowed to feel._

Space wouldn’t help him out of that. He needed support.

Empathy might come easily to me, but it didn’t mean I was good at giving any advice.

But making plans on how to comfort someone only ever made me more twitchy. I focus on the quiet padding of Hiashi’s bare feet on the hardwood floors.

When we finally arrive home, the nerves twisting in my gut reach an all-time high.

My throat is tight and sore; it feels as if I’ll squeak like a rusty pipe if I try to talk.

I’m not ready for any of this. I open the door anyway.

Mother is sitting at the dining table, dressed in black and sipping at tea. Without the knowledge of Neji’s presence, nothing would seem different.

“Hinata-chan,” she gasps when she sees me, and goes as if to stand.

“I’m okay,” I say in a rush, “Where’s Neji? I need to…”

I bite my lip. I don’t know what I need. To see him? Talk to him?

Do something, at least.

Mother pauses in the middle of standing and sits again. She sighs and looks over to the hallway opposite of the room that I call my own.

“He settled in the guest room down there, at the very end. He doesn’t want company, Hinata-chan,” my mother says, her eyebrows drawn together.

I wonder if her pity is directed at me or him? It’s always hard to tell, with her.

I nod and head down to the hallway. Most of the rooms are empty, the lights shut off with the doors closed.

It’s easy to pick out Neji’s. The door may be shut, but the light still shines through the door.

I raise my hand to knock but think better of it. I slide open the door and step inside.

“Neji?” I call out. It takes me a second to locate him.

There are two duffel bags of medium size filled with his belongings. One is half opened, clothing starting to be unpacked and then abandoned.

The room is a mirror image of mine from the other side of our section of the compound, but much, much smaller. The room of an unwanted guest. Or a close branch family member, I suppose.

Neji is sitting against the wall on the side of the bed opposite from the door. He has a forehead protector twisted in his hands.

“Go away, Hinata,” he says. His voice is thick in the way that happens only after crying. He doesn’t look at me.

It’d be so much easier to listen to him and leave the room. I walk further in, over to where he sits. He doesn’t move an inch, even as I sit beside him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” I whisper, leaning so our shoulders brush together.

Neji’s hands clench around the fabric of the forehead protector, but he doesn’t speak.

“The main clan had no right to do that to him.” I feel stupid and clumsy, stumbling around in the dark for the right thing to say. I don’t even know how much they told him.

But I remember Neji’s words from the manga.

“My dad should have protected him. When I’m clan leader, I won’t let anything like that happen again. You can be my right hand, and I’d die before I let anyone hurt you,” I say.

He makes a sharp, painted noise at that and hisses, “Don’t say that.”

But he’s finally looking at me and not that damned headband. His eyes are glassy and wet. “Father didn’t protect him, or you. I’ll do better,” I say. My eyes grow dry from not blinking, but I can’t tear them away from his face. “Your life is more than living and dying for the main clan.”

For the first time since I was born here, I feel entirely honest. Like I’m not just a fake ghoul pretending at personhood. “I’ll change things for the better. For you, and everyone else. No one has to be hurt again.”

Neji’s mouth is parted as if to speak, but all he can manage is a choked off wheeze.

My own eyes fill with tears, and I ache to pull him into a hug. I may have been the one who originally died, but losing a parental figure wasn’t something one forgot. Empathy was one hard to turn off.

But still, hugging won’t convince a child of my honesty, even one as smart as Neji. “I _promise,”_ I say, ducking my head so he’d look directly into my eyes. If he looks hard enough, maybe he’ll see the truth there. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save your dad. But when I’m older, nothing like this will ever happen again. Do you trust me?”

Neji’s breathing is still shallow and choked, but he nods his head. A minute amount, but enough for me to see.

“You’re my cousin, and I love you. I don’t care if you’re branch, I’ll die before I let anything happen to _you_. Not the clan,” I say again.

It was true. I was an error in the system. I shouldn’t be here in the first place.

 _I deserve to live._ Neji just deserves it more.

Neji’s mouth twists, unhappy to hear the words. But he accepts them. His teeth bite down at his lip, a useless attempt to hold back more tears. A familiar motion.

It muffles his sobs, but they still come out. But the words I wanted to say had been said, so I grab him in my arms and pull him close to me.

The fabric of my shirt grows wet. I run my hand down his back, an imitation of how my first mother held me when I first heard the news of, _Sorry, you’re going to be sick forever._

Life was cruel. But no one was alone. I’d make sure Neji knew that.

My own eyes stay wet. But I don’t let the tears fall, not yet.

If I started, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop. And Neji’s sadness was more important than my own.

I don’t know how long we stayed there, but his tears stop. His weak, choked sobs slow first and then his shoulders, so small and thin, stop shaking.

He makes no effort to pull away. I recognize the feeling, when your body goes so weak and feels so drawn out that pulling yourself together seems impossible.

It’s easier to stay still.

This, at least, is familiar. I give him something to focus on. “You’re too far away from my room. There’s an empty bedroom across from mine. Let’s move you into there instead,” I say.

Belatedly, it hits me that I shouldn’t be bossy with him. Given the dynamics of branch and main clan. “If you want to, I mean,” I tack onto the end.

Neji has very long eyelashes for a child; it’s easy to notice when they’re clumped together from the wetness. “That’d… be fine,” he says. His hand rubs uselessly at his eyes; they are swollen to the point of looking sore. Paired with his doll-like irises, it’s not a good look.

I nod a few times until I realize I must look like a bobble-head and stop myself. Slowly, I push myself to my feet. I reach out to offer my hand to Neji.

He takes it, and it soothes a little-wounded part of my heart.

I’m not entirely alone here. Even with the hardest emotions pushed down out of my reach, the loneliness aches like a bruise.

But I have Neji. I have Mother. I have Father, even as difficult as he is.

It’s not easy to believe things will be okay, but I’m starting to anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

It is easy to move Neji’s things into the empty bedroom near mine. The two bags from before are all he took with him. Mother had been the one who packed for him.

He still doesn’t let go of his father’s headband. In his new room, he sets it inside the top drawer of his nightstand. The one closest to the bed.

“I’m tired,” Neji says. He stands before the bed and stares at me, eyes heavy-lidded and clearly exhausted.

I can take a hint. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah. For the funeral,” he says.

Despite myself, I was hoping I’d been unconscious for that. Immediately after thinking that, guilt hits me hard in the stomach. “I’ll be there for you,” I say and pull him into another quick hug. Tight this time, and only a few seconds long. “Good night.”

“Night,” he says. He waits until I leave the room to sit down. I close the door behind me.

As I go to cross the hall to enter my own room, my eyes catch Mother’s. She’s sitting in the main room, facing my room. She must have been waiting. She makes a hand motion, gesturing me over.

 _Ugh._ The dread must show on my face because my mother gives a small smile.

I love her, but I feel emotionally exhausted. Despite that, I still obey.

“Hi, Mother.”

“Hinata-chan,” she sighs and gathers me into her arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Father stopped it before anything happened.”

I wonder if they would have killed me first, or simply gouged my eyes out of my head?

I’m curious despite myself. I suppose I’ll never find out.

Mother’s thumb reaches out and brushes against my mouth. I blink up at her and tilt my head.

“You’re my little kunoichi,” she says. “You did well.” She pats my cheek lightly.

Some form of acknowledgment in my part of the incident. It’s a first.

Conflicted feelings are hard to pinpoint and easy to bottle up in the box of ‘things I don’t want to think about.’

“What happened to Hizashi? Why’d he die?” I ask. My mother’s face, tired but warm, grows heavy. She stares down at the mostly empty teacup in front of her.

“...Before you were born, there was a war. That’s when two countries fight, over and over. Hinata-chan… hundreds of people from our village died. The man who,” she pauses here, searching for the words, “tried to take you, he was from the village we were fighting against. Our eyes are wanted by many people for the power they hold. Your Father protected our clan, but the other village didn’t see it that way.”

She doesn’t look at me when she speaks, but I stare at her anyway. Even speaking on such dark subjects, her voice stays low and smooth. The type made for audiobooks. She continues, “There were threats that because of your Father’s actions, we would have to go back to war. They demanded an eye for an eye, so to speak. Hizashi was the one who took that place. It was an honorable death; his sacrifice saved hundreds of more lives. Do you understand, Hinata?”

I understood. It didn’t make it any less bullshit. “Yes,” I say. “Why didn’t Hizashi-san think about how Neji would feel?”

At that, Mother sighs. “He did, Hinata-chan. He gave his life so that Neji can live on. If the war started again, he would be in the groups of children sent to fight. It was for all of us, including Neji. Your uncle… he was a good man.”

I don’t have anything to say to that. The words she said were true, but all I could think about was Neji’s face, swollen and grief-stricken.

“I’m going to sleep,” I say. “Please don’t let me oversleep tomorrow.”

I wait until Mother nods in agreement, and then shuffle off to my room. I crash the moment my head hits the pillow.

* * *

 

True to her word, Mother wakes me up early.

The funeral is in the morning. There is no body left to honor. A picture of Hizashi is set up instead. His face looks as stoic and resentful as it always had.

Neji stands beside me. I hold his hand the whole time. Every so often, a person with an unmarked forehead glances at us sideways - my glare is practiced and vicious. Cold enough that no one says anything.

His father is dead. Can’t people show some fucking sympathy?

It’s a quiet affair. Hiashi speaks, thanking everyone for gathering. I don’t process his words, not really. All my focus is on Neji, ready to jump in to help him if he shows any signs of breaking.

It helps to focus on someone else.

It stops the thoughts of, _I wonder if my funeral was like this. No, it’d be a lot less formal…_

Neji doesn’t break. He doesn’t cry either. He stares at the portrait of Hiashi with a blank expression, his hand clutched tightly around mine.

It goes by in a blur.

We’re the last ones to leave. Hizashi might have been branch, but we were still his closest relatives.

It’s only when I’m back in my room, alone and staring up at the ceiling, that I let myself think about him.

_I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’ll get stronger._

I close my eyes. When I focus, deep in my heart, I can feel the tiny fluttering of grief and guilt, fighting to get out.

The tears well up in my eyes in record time. This time, I let them out.

 

* * *

 

Time still goes on. Neji eats meals at the table with us now. We spend more time together than we had before, even if it’s simply him sitting silently and me reading whatever book I had that day.

He’s quiet and subdued, but he doesn’t make any mentions of fate or hopelessness. So I’ll count it as a win.

The grief may not go away, but he’ll learn to live with it. I know I did.

I’m almost finished with lunch when Father speaks up. “Hinata, we will be training today. Given recent events, it will be useful to have your byakugan unlocked.”

Beside me, Neji goes tense. My hand tightens into a fist.

Father must see the signs of unease on my face because he says, “Neji, you may join us as well. We will begin after we finish here.”

Mother says nothing, as is typical whenever the subject of training comes up. I don’t even know if she was a ninja. Isn’t that something I should know about my own mother?

“Alright,” I say. My appetite had lessened the tiniest bit, but it was never truly gone. I finish eating my lunch.

Father takes us both to the same training room before. “Both of you, sit,” he says.

There is no disobeying Father when he makes demands like that. I sit on the ground in front of him, legs tucked neatly underneath me.

Neji follows my lead.

Father sits in front of us. I relax an inch; the difference in height was hard to be comfortable with when he was towering in front of me.

“You have both felt your chakra before. Close your eyes and reach for it now,” he says.

I exhale. I hadn’t tried to feel my chakra in weeks; my brain wasn’t up to the level of meditation required.

But it was a little easier, with other people in the room. My thoughts were less prone to jump off in directions I preferred avoiding.

There’s the black veil of the inside of my eyelids. I step away from the physical and let myself sink into my brain.

Waves lapping at my feet. A breeze in the air, making my curls blow in the wind. The salty smell of the ocean, impossible to mistake. Even with the wind, the sun is high in the sky, warning the skin on my shoulders. Seagulls fly above me in the sky, their caws obnoxious but nostalgic.

I imagine the sea until every other thought fades from my head. I let myself get lost in it.

The self in my imagination sits, a mirror image of my real body. There’s the feeling of damp sand prickling against my thighs. But also, the cool hardwood floor of where I’m truly sitting.

The differences don’t matter. I breathe, deep and slow.

In my stomach, the warm feeling of my chakra is easy to grasp.

It feels like water running through my fingertips. Impossible to truly get a hold of, but with a way to control it… it’s easy to get it to flow.

There’s no way to describe it, the way that once prodded, the chakra starts to run up through my body, following my will. Similar to a burst of adrenaline, but more controlled.

A voice speaks, as if from a distance, “Once you feel your chakra, bring it to one hand… Then a finger. Focus it. Control it.”

There’s no way to rush chakra along its path, but it’s warm in my body as it spreads all through my torso and down my arms. It thins out as it moves, but with careful pressure, it’s easy to get it back to a sensible amount.

The chakra in my hands thrums. It feels like holding them above a fire, warm and comfortable. Except it’s not an external sensation, it’s entirely inside of me.

There are times when my body feels out of place and _wrong_  like I don’t truly belong in it. Chakra makes it feel completely right. Like this is where I’m meant to be.

There’s chakra in my fingers, but pulling the energy back up away from the rest of my hand is leagues more difficult than letting it reach them. Like trying to catch a whale shark using only fishing line and strength of will.

I don’t have any fishing line, but I have willpower in abundance.

Little by little, the chakra inches back up into my body. It’s impossible to completely push away, but it thins out to almost negligible amounts.

The chakra in my index finger remains.

“That’s enough,” the voice from before says. “Open your eyes.”

Slowly, my eyes flutter open. Without the razor focus of before, the chakra control slips from my grasp. The feeling of it in my belly takes longer to dissipate, and I cling to the comfortable warmth of it.

Father sits before us still, byakugan activated. After he meets my eyes, his byakugan deactivates. “You are finished here. You may practice on your own, but only this. Do not attempt to send your chakra anywhere else.”

No words of scorn or critique. From Father, that’s practically glowing praise.

He shows no signs of getting up himself, but his dismissal was as clear as could be. I stand and offer Neji my hand.

His eyes are distant, but he still takes it. He looks contemplative as we walk out.

“That was nice, right?” I say, looking at him askance. I don’t remember it clearly, but his favorite hobby, later on, was meditation. Probably.

“Yes,” Neji replies.

“Almost tranquil. Having such control over something is comforting,” I ramble on. Before Hizashi died, it was usually Neji doing most of the talking. Not so much anymore.

But I understand. It’s hard to talk about little things when struck with grief. And Neji doesn’t seem to mind when I talk, even without much input on his part.

“Mm,” he agrees.

“If you want… when we’re in your room, we can do that together. Practice it? Chakra control is a good skill to have. It’ll help us get our byakugan quicker. As long as you want to.” I may be good at rambling, but asking to do things with someone? Ugh. Bash my fucking head in.

Neji just looks at me, face as blank as it usually is. His mouth is in a straight line, but it’s less firm. “I’d like that,” he says.

“Okay… I’m glad. Tomorrow, then.”

 

* * *

 

Tomorrow comes. I keep my plans. The day after that, we do the same. After that, Hiashi leads us again. A repeat of that first lesson, but slightly expanded.

I learn to expand the chakra out of my body. Not completely, as that would be impossible. But learning how to gather it in my hands and let it swell and spread - that comes easily.

When I urge it to grow sticky, the rice paper resting in front of me sticks to my hand.

Chakra is _amazing_.

It makes absolutely no logical sense. An energy running through my body that gives me life and fuels my energy, that I can get on board with.

But it doesn’t stop there. Chakra can hurt or heal and stick and propel.

It’s as if it could do _anything_ , as long as I commanded it. _I_ could do anything, as long as I controlled it.

It’s addicting. With all the practice, the center of my body in which the chakra begins becomes nigh impossible to forget. I can find it, in the blink of an eye. No meditation necessary.

I still can’t use it entirely at command, but practice makes perfect. I was a shit artist when I was 3, and eventually, I was high above average.

The same thing would apply here. I’d practice until I could manipulate it completely.

That is if my body would actually give me _more_ of it. I was still working with a miniscule amount, as is typical for three-year-olds.

Despite my newfound passion, Mother seems more disapproving than ever of my practice.

“Hinata-chan, you need to take a break,” she says. I sit on the floor of my room, prodding at the swirl of energy inside of me. “You’re going to exhaust yourself. It’s okay to practice a little bit each day, but chakra exhaustion is a serious concern. I don’t know what your father was thinking…”

“It’s fine, Mother. I’m not using any chakra. All we’ve been doing is moving it around and stuff,” I say. It’s hard to keep the aggrieved tone from my voice, but I manage. Mother is only wanting what’s best for me, after all.

“That still can cause exhaustion, Hinata! How about you go play with Neji today, hm? It’s lovely out, it’s not too cloudy at all,” she says. There’s a wrinkle around the skirt of her kimono; she must be really off her game if she hadn’t noticed it yet. It’s only been a week since I’ve been allowed to start messing with chakra, she was overreacting to a ridiculous degree.

“Neji is in the branch part of the compound today, remember?” I raise my eyebrow. “They came over to talk about what was _expected_ of him and what not.” That time, the scorn is impossible to completely mask.

Mother’s lips press tightly together. “That’s completely understandable of them. Neji would do good to have people in his life that are also branch members,” she says. _Yeah, right._ “How about Choji, then? You haven’t seen him in quite a while, we can make it a little day trip. I’m sure he’d be happy to spend the day with you!”

I open my mouth to refuse, and then pause.

Akimichi were known for their expert control over chakra. They could change the entire size of their body only using that, after all. I wasn’t sure if his mother was a ninja, but I was confident in the fact Choji’s father was.

“Okay,” I say. The tension in my mother's shoulders releases. It’s a stark difference to how tightly she stood before. A part of me wants to insist on the stipulation that Choji’s dad needs to be there but saying that would only get Mother to worry again.

Better to just leave it to fate.

I stand and head over to my closet. Everyone noticed how I clung to stuffed animals when I was a real baby, and as such, most of the gifts I received were of the fluffy plush variety.

There’s a chest in my closet, made from dark oak wood. I push it open and stare at the pile of plush animals in front of me.

The ones in the closet were the ones that I didn’t like enough to keep in my actual room. They were all still high quality, with soft material and cute faces. Choji obviously liked butterflies, he had the kanji for them in his name and he drew them well enough that it must be a common theme.

But apparently, butterfly stuffed animals weren’t that popular, because I couldn’t find a single one in my chest. Who would have guessed?

I let out a sigh and pick out my second option, pushing the fluff around its eyes down so they were half-covered. A little quirkiness made things cuter.

“Hinata-chan, what are you doing in there?” Mother asks, apparently given up on waiting for me to explain it.

“Gift for Choji,” I reply, lifting up the animal of my choice.

“Oh… that’s nice, Hinata-chan. Let’s head out now, then.” She smiles at me and reaches for my hand.

I take it in my own.

I wonder what would happen if my chakra was pooled there. Not with any intent to harm, but still there, expanding against another living being.

Maybe I’ll practice with Neji, later. I’d ask Father first.

The walk to Choji’s house goes by in the blink of an eye; I’d been entirely preoccupied with attempting to pick out the feeling of chakra from another living being.

I could sometimes feel it at the edge of my senses when I practiced side by side with Neji.

But everyone still felt blank and normal.

“Wait here,” Mother tells me at the bottom of the steps and goes to knock on the door. It’s not Akimichi-san, but Choji’s father who opens the door.

_Jackpot._

My mother speaks to him in a quiet voice. Her apologetic smile comes out to play more than once.

It’s only a minute before Choji’s father - Akimichi-san two? - looks over at me with a wide grin and gestures me in. “It’s nice to meet you, Hinata-chan! Choji’s mentioned you, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say and bow politely. “Where’s Choji? I brought him a present.”

“Oh, he’s up in his room. Upstairs, first door on the right. You can head right up, he’ll be happy to see you.”

I nod, smile fleetingly at Mother, and rush up the stairs to the aforementioned room.

Deep breath. Choji was a nice boy who didn’t have any friends. There’s no way he’d yell at me for showing up unannounced.

I knock on his door, even though it’s cracked open. “Choji-kun? It’s me, Hinata.”

The door snaps open, revealing a shocked Choji with the beginnings of a smile blooming on his face. “H-Hinata-san! Um, I didn’t know you were coming,” he says. He blinks down at the way I have my hands awkwardly clasped behind my back. “Are you alright?”

“Yep. I got you something. Guess which hand I have it in.” I grin, a spark of affection growing at the way his face flushes red in flattered bemusement.

“Er. Right?” He asks, nervously looking from right to left.

I’m gripping it in my left. I quickly swap it into my right and exclaim, “You got it!”

I hold out the little red bird to him. I was pretty sure it was a cardinal, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Birds were never my thing.

“Sorry, I wanted to get you a butterfly, but I couldn't find one. So I figured… well, birds have wings too. And you said your favorite color was red, so.” I keep holding the plush out. Choji makes no signs to take it, but his eyes are as wide as saucers.

Patience is a virtue. Eventually, he reaches up and grabs it in his shaking hands. “Thank you, Hinata-san… I love it,” he whispers. He looks like he might cry. Hopefully from happiness?

Once the bird is safely secure in his grasp, I waltz into his room. It’s comfortably nice, he doesn’t lack for toys. There’s a bunch of animal figurines in the middle of his floor.

I plop myself before them. “You can call me Hinata, you know. Or Hinata-chan,” I say.

They were more familiar and felt less foreign being called.

Hinata-sama was also familiar, but even I wasn’t egotistical enough to _tell_ someone to call me that.

“Um. Hinata-chan, then.” Choji is blushing to the tips of his ears. He sets the red bird at the top of his bed, where the pillows were.

“What were you playing before I came over?” I ask. There’s a plastic panther figure with the others, it feels smooth and firm underneath my fingertips. Its little kitty face is surprisingly well-crafted. _So cute._

It’s nice to know big cats exist out there in the world still.

“Just jungle, you know. Uh, acting out the stuff…” Choji trails off when he speaks, the red in his ears growing deeper.

“We can play that together then if you want?” I pat the panther across the floor a few times and imitate a snarl.

It’s pathetic, really. My voice is still baby-high and can’t reach the gruffness necessary for a decent growl.

My cheeks grow red despite myself.

Choji stares at the panther in my hand and then slaps a hand over his mouth. Despite his attempts at keeping it in, I can hear the little snickers.

“Rude!” I huff. “I thought my imitation was totally quality. I’d like to hear you do a better one.”

“I-I’m sorry, Hinata-,” pause for a little wheezing giggle, “-chan, um, you… really tried there. It wasn’t that bad!” His little snort betrays his words.

I pout at him for a long moment before giving up and joining in on his laughter. It was infectious, and it wasn’t long before I’m burying my face in my hands to muffle my own hyena-like cackles. I lay there on the floor, shoulders trembling from giggles and shake my head to try to get control over myself.

“Pffff, fine! I sound like a little kitten. One day I’ll be a panther! Then I’ll show you who’s boss.” I grin at him, basking in the warm feeling in my chest as he smiles back at me.

“Okay, sure,” he says. “I have a different game we can play though, stay there.”

He fetches a set of 6-sided dice from a shelf and wanders back over to me.

“Okay, so…” He proceeds to explain the rules, which only take me a few moments to connect back to a version of Yahtzee.

Simple enough. Match dice up to certain patterns, the highest number wins.

We easily sink an hour into the game. I pout and groan whenever I get particularly bad rolls, and Choji laughs at me. It’s fun, for a dice game.

Just before Choji gets a new sheet of scrap paper to record our numbers, I stretch my arms out above my head. “I’m getting hungry! Do you mind if I go to the kitchen and ask for a snack, maybe?” I ask, tilting my head at him.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead. Do you want me to go with you?” He asks. His eyes get so wide when he’s concerned. It’s adorable.

“No, I’ll be okay. Be back in a moment.” I head down to the kitchen. Mother and Choji’s mom are sitting at the table in the dining room, chatting over a cup of tea. Neither of them notices me, or if they do, they don’t mention it.

Choji’s father, Chouza, is in the kitchen. He’s cutting up some fresh red peppers with a speed that only comes with experience. I wander over to him, hovering awkwardly because I have no idea how to approach older men. He finishes cutting the veggies before grinning down at me. “Do you need something, Hinata-chan?” he asks.

I nod. “Could me and Choji have some snacks? I didn’t eat much today.”

“Of course! I have some cinnamon buns from breakfast earlier. How about those?” he asks, though he’s already started to shuffle through the refrigerator.

“That sounds yummy,” I say, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. It’s a little belated to realize I’m still in my training clothes. Mother must have rushed to get me here if she didn’t even make me change into something more proper.

“Mmhmm, Kimiko makes them homemade. They’re delicious.” He sets the oven to preheat and places a few bread rolls with warm brown swirls on top of a cookie sheet. “It won’t be too long of a wait, they’re all cooked already. Five minutes for the oven to warm up, then another couple. Think you can wait that long?” He smiles at me, eyebrows lifted conspiratorially.

I grin back at him, crooked as can be. “I dunno. I’m really hungry, but I think it’ll be worth it. Can I wait down here? I want to bring the cinnamon buns up to Choji.”

“Of course, that’s no problem. I’d offer to let you help me cut up these veggies, but I’m already all done.” He waves a hand at the mentioned vegetables. He must be making some sort of stir-fry because there was a large variety of them.

“I wouldn’t be much of a help, I don’t really… cook at home.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Um… Father says all you Akimichi are really good at chakra control.”

Chouza chuckles, sliding the cookie sheet full of rolls into the oven. “Well, Hiashi-san would be right. Yang release is our specialty. You know what that is?”

After I shake my head, Chouza continues, “Well, you’ll learn about it more in the academy. It basically just means our chakra is powered by our bodies and the physical.”

A part of my brain wants to shout, _I’ll understand it! Please elaborate now!_ but being demanding was no way to treat a host. And Chouza had been nothing but polite.

Instead, I nod. “I understand. Father’s teaching me chakra control, though. Do you have any exercise ideas for that?” Pause. “Um, easy ones.”

Chouza’s eyebrows rise high on his forehead. “Little young for that, but I guess you Hyuuga always have been that way. Sure, but make sure to have some adult supervision the first few times, alright?”

He waits until I agree before continuing, “Next time you reach for your chakra, try doing some basic exercise along with it. Nothing strenuous. Stretching, some kata, easy stuff. It’s one of the first things we Akimichi learn. It’ll help with learning taijutsu later on, since you’ll already know how your chakra flows.”

Excitement sparks. “Thank you!” I say, bowing again to him.

Chouza laughs, a warm and deep-bellied sound. “It’s nothing. I’m sure Hiashi-san would have had you doing the same thing sooner or later. But don’t practice any of that on your own, I’m serious.”

The timer to the oven dings, and the cinnamon buns are quickly assembled onto a big plate for me to take up to Choji.

I hadn’t been that fond of cinnamon-flavored things in my first life, but something about the smell of these sets my mouth watering.

Akimichi cooking was so good.

“Got em!” I call to Choji as I scurry back into the room. He’s flipping through a picture book.

“Oh, yum. Set them here.” He pats the spot on the floor beside him.

I follow his words and seat myself next to him, picking up a sticky roll and taking a large bite of it.

_Oh my god. I think I’m in heaven._

Forget the smell, the taste of the rolls had to have been the absolute best thing I’d ever tasted. The warm doughiness of the bread, how it was just sweet enough to enjoy without stepping over the line into sickly sweet.

“I’m going to marry these rolls,” I sigh. I forgot how much I loved bread. I was celiac in my last life, I had gotten used to the taste of replacement bread, the stuff that’s stiff and frozen. And at home here, bread usually wasn’t eaten. Flour was used to fry tempura, but it was hardly ever used on its own.

Not bad, but not at _all_ close to the level of deliciousness that made up these cinnamon buns.

Choji snickers at me, but the way he’s stuffing his face shows he totally agrees. “You can be the best man at the wedding,” I say, as lofty as possible. “But you’ll have to share with Neji.”

“I’m okay with that.” He snorts, scratching at a cheek. “I’m going to be getting my cheek markings soon. Swirls, like my mom.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” I say between bites of sweet bread. “Um, is there a special occasion for it, or…?”

“No, it’s just something every Akimichi does. To dedi- dedica.. You know, to honor the clan. They just wait till we know what we’re agreeing to,” he explains. “A lotta clans do it. Inuzuka do it around the same time as us too.”

I nod my head, nibbling on the rest of the roll. There was only one left. “Wanna split the last one?” Choji nods his head, so I tear it in two and offer him the bigger half.

Hah. No one could ever tell me I wasn’t considerate.

Even after I finish the rolls, the sugar in my mouth lingers. If Mother knew how easy it was to distract me from chakra with food, she’d probably hire me my own personal chef.

I let myself fall onto my back and stretch out on the floor. “Food makes me sleepy,” I say. “I’m gonna head home, I think.”

“Alright. Come back and visit soon… if you wanna,” Choji says.

After a few moments of blissful resting, I clamber to my feet. “Of course I wanna. See you later.” I envelop Choji into a bear hug, pick up the empty plate from the floor and head to return it.

Chouza isn’t in the kitchen anymore, so I set it in the sink. Mother and Choji’s mother are sitting at the table, smiling and laughing softly over something I can’t hear.

Probably the pains of being the wife of a clan head. “Mom, I’m tired, I wanna nap,” I say. My hands are sticky, so I don’t reach out to her.

“Ah, alright Hinata-chan. We can head home. Thanks so much for having us, Kimiko-san. It’s been lovely talking to you.” Mother bows her head with a smile.

They say their goodbyes that I tune out as I linger around Mother’s legs. There’s a lightness in her step that hasn’t been there in days, not since I got hooked into practicing with my chakra.

My mouth’s agape with the urge to ask her _why_ she’s so bothered with my interest. Father encourages it every moment he can.

But she looks so relaxed, I can’t bring myself to say the words. It’d just make her stressed out again.

Konoha is beautiful in the evening. The sun sets high over the trees, lighting everything up with a warm, golden glow. The air is warm and easy to breathe. It’s peaceful.

The walk home stays quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter I keep writing more and more. I've had no idea I could write this many words this quickly tbh.
> 
> Everyone's comments completely make my day. So thank you again! :)


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

 

Despite the promises made, I find myself awake in the middle of the night, directing the flow of chakra all throughout my body.

I meant the words when I said them, of course. But then I lay in bed with the warm, distracting center of chakra in my body, and relax enough to lull myself into sleep.

The ceiling is white and vacant above me; free from panels for counting. My bedside lamp is turned down low, bright enough to light the room in a faint glow. When I close my eyes, my eyelids are lit orange instead of black. Too bright to sleep with.

_Just a little bit of practice._

Ten minutes turns into an hour turns to two.

Nothing feels more natural than the sensation of the energy running through my arms as I move in the pseudo-dance that makes up the gentle fist kata.

The chakra expands and sways like water in my veins, eager to follow the slightest pull of my thoughts. Like a puppet master, the strings just exist inside my body.

Albeit a blind puppeteer, following intuition and cause-and-effect. If only I could _see_ it.

The chakra sharpens and expands when I follow through with the flat-handed strikes of the clan style. Having even more control of it, being able to actually know where to focus my control instead of just following some odd intuition…

A sigh escapes my lips.

I lower my hands to my sides, my breath coming slow and steady.

Before my plan becomes more than just a half-baked urge to see, my chakra flows up my spine and towards the back of my skull.

It settles there, makes my head feel light and free of fatigue. But even when I focus it deeper, nothing happens. Perhaps the room becomes a little more clear, sharper?

My vision was already perfect. It’s hard to tell the difference.

Nothing of note.

I let out another sigh and my chakra settles back down in its place of origin.

There was something in the manga, some sort of hand seal the Hyuuga did to activate their dojutsu. Something with two fingers upward, but as comfortable I was with controlling my chakra, I had no fucking idea what hand seals did. A memory in the back of my head didn’t help much.

For now, I climb back into bed. I’ll research more into it tomorrow.

Consciousness fades minutes after my head hits the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Training with Father and Neji the next day begins at 10 am sharp, as always.

We start with basic stretching, then kata to warm up.

“Hinata, Neji,” Father says, “today you will spar each other. Do not hold back.” He directs the last part to me, staring down with heavy-lidded eyes.

Have I ever held back? Having friends didn’t make me suddenly invalid.

I purse my lips and stand up straight, waiting for Neji to take his place across from me before raising my arm in the starting stance.

Neji is a mirror image across from me.

“Begin,” Father says.

Neji strikes out, as fast as a cheetah. My mouth twitches upward; I sidestep just in time to dodge his palm.

Conscious thought fades away when I fight; instinct takes its place. Chakra flows up my arms and settles in my hands; flowing in time to my moves.

Neji is slippery; impossible to hit. He’s faster and sharper than me, but we are still both using the same fighting stance at a beginners level.

It’s easy to predict.

I pivot out of the way of his attack, let my spine arch backward as I feel the way his follow up hit brushes against my chest.

It aches in the way pressing on a bruise does. Makes my breath come a bit faster, heart thump a pace quicker. I don’t twitch or flinch; pain is nothing new.

His hand pulls back to let his dominant one finish me off; there’s an opening there, between his actions.

The space between his arm and body is clear. My back straightens and I strike out, my palm hitting against the flat of his ribcage. My chakra, unbidden, pulses in time with my touch.

I feel the moment it connects more than a normal palm strike. Neji’s eyes are wide, his breath stutters.

My arm is knocked away. Two strikes to my own chest, only noticed from the _throb_ of pain that suddenly appears. One on my stomach, one high near my heart.

_Who knew Neji could move so fast?_

I’m staring up at the ceiling, the wind knocked out of me from the force of hitting the ground. It wasn’t as bad as that first time, I can breathe again within moments.

Did he move fast enough to blur or did the pain just affect my eyesight?

Neji’s kneeling beside me, hand placed over his own heart. He doesn’t look injured, but his face is pale and his lips are turned downward in a deep frown.

I have absolutely no idea what hitting someone with a hand full of chakra and the intent to _harm_ does.

I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea. Thinking hadn’t come into the equation at all, I just acted. My eyes feel shaky and unfocused, I look to Father instead.

He’s standing, impassive and still as he stares at the both of us. Father, all-knowing, speaks up the moment my head turned to face him.

“Hinata, letting yourself get hit in order to land an attack is a poor tactic that can easily cause you irreparable harm. Do better.”

He has no words for Neji.

It’s clear those were his last words for the session, as he walks out the doorway moments after.

I push myself into a sitting position, rubbing my elbow where it hit the floor first. Sore, but not nearly as bad as body aches would get _before_.

I wait until my eyes feel steady and in my control again before I look over at Neji.

He’s standing, staring off at the wall that has the poster on it. His hair is as neat as it always is, compared to mine, which feels like it’s standing on end.

“You got me good,” I say, standing up slowly. When I lean back and stretch my back out, it doesn’t click or pop.

_Ah, the joys of a body that doesn’t attack itself. Spondylitis can fuck right off._

“Hm,” Neji says. “Yes.” His voice feels as distant as his gaze; he doesn’t even turn his head to look at me.

I open my mouth to ask exactly how it feels to have chakra pushed into your body; thankfully I realize in time that _hmm_ , probably not the most sensitive question.

“I had no idea you could move so fast. It’s impressive,” I say instead.

Neji’s quiet, but he finally meets my eyes when he replies, “Yes. People are born with different skill levels. Next time, I will not let you touch me.”

 _Let_ me? My mouth spreads into a crooked grin, my eyebrows rise high.

I bite back the words that spring to mind. Neji was four-years-old, traumatized and most likely with a ridiculously high IQ with zero output on where to focus that intelligence.

Knowing that didn’t make it any less tempting to tell him to shove his disdain somewhere it was appreciated.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see. Maybe next time I’ll be the one knocking you down,” I say. My grin, sardonic and ugly, does not want to leave my face.

Neji’s nose twitches. “Unlikely,” he declares.  

_Ugh, the little brat._

There’s love for him, deep down, but it’s particularly hard to focus on when my jaw is clenched tight from irritation. I reach out and pat him on the shoulder, as light as can be. He doesn’t flinch away or tense up. A good sign.

Just a little-repressed anger over the Hizashi thing, then. Well, at least he was letting out a little. Maybe it’d be good if I snapped back at him, let him really vent things out.

Not today though, with the way he keeps reaching up and brushing his fingers high over his ribcage.

 

* * *

 

It’s easy to get books on chakra.

Members of the Hyuuga clan weren’t allowed into the clan head’s rooms without permission, but select few branch members were. Caretakers, cleaners, cooks. All them ninja, of course. Only a few were actually active, the rest assigned jobs at the compound.

There was a wariness in me, a caution of talking to people who I didn’t already _know_. They were people with feelings and thoughts and personalities I didn’t have any sort of grasp on at all. What if I said the wrong thing?

Intuition and empathy gave me some measure of comfort, in both this life and before, but I had gotten used to the ease of knowing, inside and out, how the people around me thought and felt.

I can’t live life in a bubble of safety though. I manage. No branch member would deny the Hyuuga heiress books she requested politely. They’d tell Hiashi later, of course. But that was later, and I could read a book within a few hours.

I sit on my bed, one of the requested books opened in front of me.

A lot of it was basic, introductory stuff that I already knew. Or if I didn’t know, had already guessed at. More from common sense than any particular intelligence.

A lot of chakra was based on control, but just as much of it was based on hand seals. A sequence of patterns filled with the intent to create the outcome wanted.

Hand seals would basically train chakra to flow and act in a certain way based on the seal and hand motion used. I couldn’t look away from the page.

I had set out to read the book with a certain goal in mind, but I end up reading all of the beginning chapters anyway. The more I read, the more kanji I can really learn.

At least, that’s how I justify my distraction to myself.

Eventually, I reach the chapter on the content I was looking for.

Chakra when introduced to other sentient beings.

There’s a section on animals, how if they are exposed to it enough, their thoughts become more aware, more stable, and some can even learn to speak.

But when chakra touches another separate human, intent, and specific context often is the only thing that can determine what will happen.

Everyone’s chakra is different, and each living being has a different set of abilities. Clan traits often come into play; it’s almost guaranteed a child would inherit certain chakra-traits from one or more of their parents.

Inherited traits disregarded, often, with the focused intent to harm, chakra can cause bruising, combustion, increased strength and speed, inflict organ damage or heart palpitations.

There’s more than that listed there, but my eyes still on _palpitations_.

I had them in my before life, of course, I knew what they felt like. Neji seemed particularly wound up after I hit him. Palpitations weren’t always felt, only the after effects of _unease_ , anxiety was standard.

If an unpracticed hit, backed up by chakra, could cause unsteadiness to that extent in the body, it certainly wasn’t to be trifled with.

Father would have seen if it happened. His byakugan is always activated during training sessions. I’ll ask him at dinner.

 

* * *

 

I don’t ask him at dinner. I don’t ask him at breakfast the next morning either.

If I got an answer I didn’t like, it’d taint the moments where I can let myself just relax and entertain myself with playing with my chakra. Easier to just… not know. Neji probably was just surprised I got a hit on him at all.

I flip open a page of the book on chakra in my lap, eyes following the diagram on Yin and Yang chakra.

“Hinata-chan, what do you think about this color?” Mother asks, holding up a fuschia colored yukata. Half of my closet lays up folded in a box to her side; I’ve started to outgrow most of my old clothes. I’m sure I’ll walk in tomorrow and find half a new wardrobe waiting for me.

“Don’t like it,” I say. “Too bright.”

My eyes drift back to my book, eager to absorb myself in it.

Mother’s sigh is loud; impossible to ignore.

“This scarf is so cute, don’t you think?” When I look back over at her, she’s holding a cream scarf. She’s staring at me, patiently waiting for an actual response.

“It’s not bad. Soft,” I say. That should be enough of an answer to please her.

But right when I start to read the next sentence, Mother sits on the bed near me.

“Mother knows how to knit, you know. How about we take a break from this stuff and I’ll show you how to start it? You could make a scarf in that pretty red color you like,” Mother says, smiling down at me.

I push down the irritation that wells up over being interrupted _again_.

“No thanks,” I mumble.

Knitting was cool, but if I was going to be doing anything creative, it’d be illustration. I didn’t dedicate my entire life to it before only to replace it with a _different_ creative outlet.

Slowly, the book on my lap is tugged out of my reach and placed, shut, on my nightside table.

“Let’s go out to the park, then. You’ve never been to the ones outside of the grounds, I’m sure you’ll love them. And maybe you can meet some more kids your age!” she says, patting the back of my hair down to fall a bit flatter. It doesn’t work very well.

“If I’m going out, can’t we just go to Choji’s house?”

“Well, he’s not available every possible day, Hinata-chan. People have lives they live, sometimes we have to do _different_ things.” She’s clearly in the type of mood where her mind is made up and there is no hope of persuading her otherwise.

So I nod my head and stand passively as she dresses me up in ‘outside clothes’.

No kimono - that might get dirty - or anything I wear for training. Training clothes at a park? As a Hyuuga? The other people there would get the wrong impression. And we could never have that. It’s always something traditional and perfectly matched. Mother is allergic to anything too _trendy_.

My mouth twitches in amusement.

“Something funny, Hinata-chan?” Mother asks, eyebrow raised.

“No, Mother.”

It’s finally started to grow warm enough to forgo my usual knit hat, but I still bury my hands in the warm pockets of my overcoat as we walk through Konoha together.

Mother stares ahead of us, careful that no civilians bump into us. But we’re given a wide berth, even with the crowds of people, not even a single person brushes against my shoulder.

It’s not a long walk; it’s certainly shorter than the way to the Akimichi quarters.

The paved road gives way to green grass and meadows. There are people in the distance; loud laughter audible from where I stand.

I lick my bottom lip and tug at Mother’s kimono.

“Hinata-chan?” she asks, looking down at me. Her eyes are wider than usual; the pale shade of lilac almost matches the sky.

“Why are you so scared of me using chakra?” I say. The question has been haunting me for days; the way she frowns after training or tucks away my books. Her little distractions, so clearly desperate to get me to do anything else.

The fact I’m here right now, instead of at home with books and Neji. The way she stares at my cousin, eyes narrowed and never directly spoken to. A bad influence.

Her mouth presses into a thin line and is then quickly smoothed out.

“Hinata-chan, is this really the right time to talk about this? How about you go play over there with the rest of the kids?” She gestures to the park, where there is a small playground and benches scattered. We’re still far enough away that our voices wouldn’t be heard by others, though.

“I want to know, Mother. Please,” I say.

Mother, despite all her stress, has never denied me answers when directly asked. She nods her head, once, twice.

“Alright,” she says. “You don’t know this about me, but I was a medical-nin before I had you. My eyes let me be of great use to the hospital, because of our ability to see chakra pathways and diagnose issues without the need for outside abilities.

“Hinata-chan, I’ve seen… very many children come into the hospital with chakra exhaustion or other maladies that come with too much use, too soon. There are children who completely warped their ability to control their chakra or crippled their pathways forever, just from overuse. Your father wants to train you, and that is okay. But you have to be careful, Hinata. You are going to make a great kunoichi, and interest in chakra is a good thing. But the way you’ve been focusing, it’s very frightening for me. Do you see?”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. Mother, a medical ninja? I suppose Hinata must have learned to make those little medicinal creams from somewhere. I don’t know why I never supposed it could be from Mother.

No wonder she was so sad about the war, even as a Hyuuga.

“Yes. Okay,” I sigh. “Can you get me books on it then? I’ll read theory, instead. Is that okay?”

Mother makes a humming sound and places a hand on my head. She doesn’t muss my hair, only attempts to smooth it down. “Yes, I can do that. You don’t need to stop completely, but please just wait until you train with your Father. He only holds training sessions twice a week for a reason.”

I nod my head again. I don’t really know what else to say. Her points have been made. It doesn’t make me any less tempted to mess with it, but temptation can be denied. Or at the very least, delayed. I remembered how quickly a year went by, before. It’d go quickly again.

“Why don’t you go play with the other kids now? I’ll go do some shopping for you. I won’t be far, I’ll know if you’re in trouble.” Her hand leaves my head.

Her question didn’t really need an answer, but I agree anyway. She makes no sign of moving first, her hands don’t even twitch from her sides.

Right. Park. Playing around on my own had no appeal, and I had absolutely zero friends waiting there. What on earth was I supposed to do, just walk up and _ask_ someone to be friends?

If only I had an adult to introduce me. It was easy when I knew exactly who was desperate for companionship.

The mid-afternoon sky is pale blue, cloudy and pastel. The middle of the park is only a little bit away. It’s primarily made up of meadow and fresh grass; there’s a little stone path through the center and benches placed all around it. A mother sits on one of them, nursing her child.

Laughter sounds from the jungle gym off to the side, kids a little older than me swing upside down and do acrobatic tricks. Closely near that, there’s a sandbox already occupied with children around my age.

A swing set is set good ways apart from them, a little boy with blonde hair swings alone. The park is packed full, but the two empty swing seats beside him are unused.

If I had the vision I had before, his shape would be a blur of warm colors, impossible to decipher anything more.

But luckily that wasn’t the case. I could make out the three parallel lines on one side of his face, surely the same on the other. And the way he pumps his legs to fly high in the air but still keeps glancing over at the kids playing, chewing his lip at the way they laugh loudly.

I exhale deeply despite the growing anxiety in my chest. Perhaps because of it. Everything feels so much more real when I’m looking at Naruto, alive and breathing.

Reality seems so much harsher than it normally does when I’m watching him. I could have survived, before. Maybe I’m just in a coma now, thrown back into my childish obsessions.

It doesn’t matter because I’m stuck here. Looking at Naruto, with his bright dandelion hair and childish body, makes my heart thump hard against my ribcage.

The entire manga was about him. It’s impossible to block the memories and the _fear_ out when I’m looking directly at the story’s entire focal point.

Naruto’s head turns sharply to the side and meets my eyes.

I snap my gaze away, scanning the area for absolutely _anyone_ who can make me seem busy and not approachable.

A dog. There’s a tiny puppy, off near the outskirts of the park, being spoken to loudly by another small boy.

My feet scurry over to them, and I quickly try to ignore the guilty feeling that I’m fleeing from a three-year-old. I am, but it doesn’t make me feel any less shitty.

I’m a foot away from the puppy and his owner before I realize I’m standing there, with absolutely no idea of what to say.

“Hi,” I say to the dog. Belatedly realizing that maybe it’d be better if I actually introduced myself to the _human_ first, I add on, “Um, you too. Hi.”

When I finally meet the gaze of the boy, I resist the urge to bash my head against the nearby bench. I ran away from one bad reminder of canon into another.

A little boy with angry red triangles on his cheeks and razor-sharp teeth stares back at me. But Kiba doesn’t aggravate any lingering feelings of fear in me - he wasn’t nearly as prominent in the manga. He was clearly just a little boy, not an omen of future danger.

He looks more wolf than a kid, truly, with his slit eyes and unruly hair. “Hi,” he says back, blinking those odd eyes at me. But really, who am I to judge about weird eyes?

It was easier with Choji; I could remember he was just a lonely kid desperate for friendship. Kiba was more of an unknown; he didn’t seem particularly desperate for friends either. He had a permanent one with him at all times.

“I’m Hinata,” I say to the dog - Akamaru. I raise my eyes back up to Kiba’s. “What’s his name? And yours, too.”

Kiba stares at me; his gaze feels like it can piece down to my very soul. I have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. What do wolfish little boys think about? Probably how unimpressive and odd I am.

But Kiba seems to make up his mind because he stands up and brushes off some dirt from his pants.

“This is Akamaru!” he says, ruffling the puppy between the ears. “I’m Kiba. I was just telling him how boring it was ‘round here. All civi.. civilians, the scaredy cats.” His voice is loud and abrasive; there’s a sandpaper quality to it that seems unlikely he’ll outgrow.

“This is my first time here,” I say, despite not knowing if he really wanted me to reply. But conversations were usually two-sided, and I suppose we were having one now. I ask Akamaru, “Can I pet you?”

It seems talking to Akamaru like he’s a third party is the right thing to do because Kiba waits patiently for some sort of signal before snickering and nodding his head. “Yeah, go ahead. S’weird this is your first time here, isn’t the Hyuuga compound like, right around the corner?”

“Yeah, it’s only a minute away,” I say. “My parents don’t really like taking me out though. I think they’re scared of bad influences.”

Kiba barks a laugh at that, running a hand over his head and only succeeding at messing up his hair even more. “I dunno if you should talk to me then. I’m an Inuzuka, we live right over there.” He points in the opposite direction to where the compound is. “If your parents don’t want you playin’ here, it’s probably cause they don’t like Mom.”

I kneel down on the ground and pay no heed to the way the loose dirt smudges against my knees. I reach my hand out to let Akamaru sniff at it, which he gladly does. After a few moments, he seems comfortable enough to let me scratch behind his ears.

His fur is soft and surprisingly dense; there’s quite a bit of give when I rub under his chin.

“I’m sure your Mom’s great,” I say to Kiba. “You seem nice too, and Akamaru is here, so. Dogs make everything worth it.”

The last bit of wariness from Kiba’s face fades, and he laughs again, exposing those pointy eye teeth. They must have been baby teeth - yet they still looked as if they could do some damage. I suppose clan traits were developed in utero. “Well, that’s right for sure. Akamaru’s the best. Akamaru, roll over,” he says. Akamaru drops away from my hand, exposing his belly.

Kiba reaches over and rubs his palm over Akamaru’s belly, snickering at the way he wiggles and growls.

“How old are you?” Kiba asks even as he continues playing with Akamaru. He snaps his fingers and grins as Akamaru immediately jumps back up into a sitting position.

“I’m three and a half. My birthday’s in December. What about you?”

“Me too! But my birthday’s just in two months. I came here to teach Akamaru to climb up the jungle gym over there but the older kids wouldn’t scram. Or even just give us enough space to do our thing.‘Cause it’s after academy hours and stuff, they think they’re so cool cause they got in,” he says, voice heavy with scorn.

A picture paints in my head; new ninjas-in-training, arrogant from their new status. A little kid with a puppy, clearly from a clan but too young to hold it over their head. So instead of giving up any of their rungs, they kick him out of their space. Perhaps laugh a bit. Karma, in their minds. Unfair, in Kiba’s.

I look askance at him. “Well… now there’s two of us. Maybe they’d listen better?” I suggest, mouth twitching upwards into a grin. One of my more genuine ones too.

My awkwardness is beginning to fade. Kiba may be a character I knew from canon and dissimilar to the quiet, steady nature of Neji or Choji, but he wasn’t going to bite me. He was still a little kid, brash and loud, but not any danger. It’d be more likely that I hurt him with my words than vice versa.

He stares at me, nose scrunched up. “I dunno…”

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” I give Akamaru one quick scratch between the ears before standing. “They’re just civilian students, right? They don’t learn anything in the first year, so their threats are totally just for show,” I say. I read the books first-year academy students got on chakra - if all the other subjects were like that, it was more like first grade than any special ninja school. Perhaps with a touch more brainwashing.

“What? Really? Hana said…” the rest of his sentence is mumbled and unclear, but from the way he glowers, it’s clearly unhappy.

“Don’t worry, it’s a good thing!” I sling an arm over his shoulder and squeeze, letting go a moment later.

I hear the thump of feet as they follow after me, so I approach the jungle gym and step up on one of the rungs. It’s the type built out of rectangular shapes, ideal for sitting and swinging.

I wait and take another step up.

“Hey, go find somewhere else to play! This isn’t for toddlers,” a snide voice calls above me. From the center, there’s a little boy with plain features sitting atop the highest rung. Dirty blonde hair, plain clothes typical of a six-year-old.

My lips spread wide into a grin. More similar to a baring of teeth than any show of friendliness. “We want to play here, though. So either make space and ignore us or go away,” I say, taking another step up the bars.

The boy stares at me, mouth agape. His hands clench and unclench on the bar beneath him. “No way. Go play in the sandbox or something,” he sneers. Nods come along around from the other kids. None are hanging upside down anymore.

 _Academy students,_ seriously. Six years old was still a child, and I was hardly a child. A single sentence about their appearance or their futures and I could have them all sobbing.

But just because I could doesn’t mean that I _should_. Little brats they were, but so were many other kids. I shift my weight on the rung.

Kiba catches my eye, his eyebrows furrowed close together. Despite my words, he’s clearly worried. And about a girl he just met not even a half-hour ago.

Right. I wasn’t being mean just for the sake of it.

I tilt my head and let my smile widen. “You may be an academy student, but I’m a Hyuuga. Haven’t you heard? We can see everything, even your deepest secrets.”

The boy’s throat bobs; he’s all bluster when he scoffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah, right. Don’t be stupid.”

“Eh, Keichi-kun, she does have those eyes…” a girl whispers from his side. Her thumb is pressed up against her bottom lip; her nails too short to be chewed down any further.

“Nah, Hinata’s telling the truth! She can see _anything_ ,” Kiba pipes up in a crowing voice. “Even your insides.”

“That’s right, so if you don’t leave me _and_ my friend alone, I’ll tell all of your friends here exactly what _you_ did last week. And I don’t think you want that...” My voice goes low and quiet, but I don’t let my smile fade.

Just enough vagueness to let his mind fill in the blanks over exactly what embarrassing things he’s done and grow pale.

He’s six, of course, there’s something he’s embarrassed about. It doesn’t take a mind reader to come up with that.

Keichi huffs but he drops down to the grass below. “C’mon, guys. We can play ninja over there, this is getting old,” he says. Acting as if he simply lost interest, but his cheeks are flushed red.

His friends do listen, but the glare he gives me as they walk away could kill.

“Holy crap, Hinata! That was so cool!” Kiba exclaims, climbing up the rungs to match my height. “You were all serious and stuff, like a real ninja.” He’s grinning over at me, his eyes sparkling.

The last lingering worry over scaring off a bunch of six-year-olds fades; Kiba was clearly happy with it. So my little job was accomplished.

I smirk back at him and make a little clicky noise with my tongue down at Akamaru. “How’re we gonna get him up here?”

“C’mon Akamaru, give it a try,” Kiba says, stretching down to tap the first bar with his toes. “It’s just balance, you’re good at that.”

Watching Kiba, the other kids and people in the park fade into the background. Akamaru listens to Kiba too, and cautiously puts his paws up on the rung and jumps up to balance his paws on it.

My worries before seem pointless now that the warm glow of happiness starts up in my chest.

“Good job, Akamaru,” I call down. “You can do it!”

Looking to the ground from where I sit sets my stomach rolling, but I was only three feet off the ground tops. Tree climbing would put me a lot higher than that. So I set my eyes back on Kiba and let the height aspect of things settle in the back of my mind.

I part my lips to speak, but nothing clever or interesting comes to mind. So I sit quietly and observe.

Even despite my lack of decent small talk, Kiba’s still smiling and laughing down to Akamaru. Despite the little puppy’s lack of feet or hands to help him, he’s managing to climb up to the second bar of the jungle gym. Kiba keeps watching until he seems confident that Akamaru has it handled, and then turns to me.

“Hinata, you’ll never believe what happened the other day! So, Kaimaru, that’s my sister’s ninken, was tryin’ to get Akamaru to do some training stuff and get us all mad,” Kiba starts, turning to face me even as he keeps glancing back to his dog. “And well, Kaimaru knows what to say to get us irritated, so Akamaru totally jumped on him. But usually that’s it and then it’s back to boring stuff, but Kai - he totally couldn’t get Akamaru off him! So he was just trying to jump around and kick him off, but Akamaru totally clung on and just rode him around. It took like 5 minutes before Hana came in and got him free, it was _so_ cool. Right, Akamaru?”

There’s a certain talent for being able to say so many words in such a short period of time. My eyes are wide in their sockets; I can only hope that the fact my irises are barely visible helps hide that. After Akamaru’s little proud ‘woof!’ of agreement, a snicker escapes me.

“Um, yeah! Akamaru’s a total badass,” I say, covering my grin with my hand.

“Badass?” Kiba repeats, tilting his head at me.

Oh. Oops. It’s easy to forget that certain swears weren’t as common in a different language. And also, I’m three.

“Yeah, Akamaru’s a total _badass_!” Kiba leans back and laughs; he almost slips off the rung he’s on but just settles his hands behind him on a separate rung. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

Akamaru barks again and carefully jumps up another rung.

He’s in grabbing distance now, but Kiba makes no move to pick him up. I adjust my weight, watching nervously as Akamaru starts to put his paws up to climb again. It’d certainly hurt if he fell from this height.

But my worries are for naught because he climbs up with little trouble and then proceeds to jump into my lap.

A tiny noise of surprise escapes my mouth, quickly replaced with a giggle. Nothing was as good as the feeling of a dog that likes you. I scratch under his chin and smooth his ear between my fingers, relishing in the velvety soft feeling of his fur.

There’s a moment of quiet; when I look over at Kiba he’s staring at Akamaru with focus. Akamaru’s nose is twitching and he barks a little.

At the noise, Kiba relaxes and scoots closer to me. “You have any siblings? I just have my older sister,” he says, reaching over to ruffle his hand over Akamaru’s face.

“No, it’s just me. But I have a cousin, he’s pretty much like my brother. But we haven’t been hanging out much; he’s been busy with br… uh, clan dynamics stuff.”

Kiba nods along like he knows what I’m talking about - I suppose he might. Hyuuga clan drama certainly wasn’t a private matter, and gossip traveled fast in places like Konoha. “Do you have the eyes yet?” he asks, still messing with Akamaru, who’s practically melting in my lap.

“The byakugan? No, not yet.”

“Great! Let’s make sure the other kids don’t find out that, though.” Kiba grins again, wolfish and unrestrained. “Let’s play hide-and-seek. Akamaru and I play on our own, but this way it’s more fair. Me an’ Akamaru against you, then we’ll switch.”

I raise my eyebrows and say, “You and Akamaru as a team doesn’t seem fair. Don’t you both have a super sense of smell? Akamaru and I can be a team!”

“Eh? You know that?” Kiba’s eyebrows are even higher than mine now. “I didn’t think the Hyuuga bothered tellin’ their kids about little clans like us. But definitely not! It can be me and you against Akamaru. That’s fair,” Kiba says, nodding his head with finality.

“Well, I suppose that works too,” I sigh, despite the fact I’m starting to grin. I scoop Akamaru up from my lap and cradle him in my arms. My legs swing from the holes in the jungle gym;I let myself slide through them and land lightly on the ground.

I place Akamaru on the ground and pat his head a little. “So… we’ll hide first?”

“Yeah! Not together though, he’d find us way too fast. Akamaru, you know the rules. A minute before you go hunting!” He grins at his dog before patting me on the shoulder. “Bet he finds you first!” he says, before running off to go find his hiding spot.

Akamaru’s laying on the ground, resting his little paws over his eyes. _So cute._

It’s harder to find a spot that seems difficult to sniff out than to find one out of sight.

Climbing up a tree was my first thought, but as hard as it’d be to see, I’m sure the scent of _girl up high_ would be a dead giveaway.

So instead I find myself awkwardly crouching in the middle of a bush surrounded by flowers. Hydrangeas - my eyes keep drifting over to them.

The sight of the blue flowers make me keep glancing at my arms, but no matter how much I stare they still remain blank and ink free.

Whenever I’m old enough and my status as heiress is entirely secure, I’m going to get tattooed up again. Maybe not the exact same as the ones I had before, but similar. Something to remember before without needing to _think_ about it.

A minute ticks by. No one finds me yet.

I sigh and settle back onto my butt to relax and wait for the long haul.

But there’s a bit of shuffling behind me, and I turn to see if it’s Akamaru.

But instead of the expected puppy, there’s a little boy with bright blue eyes and scratch marks on his cheeks.

_Oh fuck._

“What’re you doing in there?” Naruto asks, a wrinkle between his brow.

I wipe my hand, suddenly sweaty, against my pants. “Shh, I’m playing hide-and-seek,” I whisper.

“Oh.” He looks away and back at me, a tiny ball of a girl in a flower patch. Blood rushes to my cheeks; I must look ridiculous. “Can I play?”

I gnaw at my bottom lip and focus my eyes on the hole at the bottom of his shirt instead of those wide eyes. “Um, it’s already started, so we can’t have another player. Maybe next time,” I say because I have no fucking self-control. I regret the words the second they come out of my mouth.

My eyes dart up to gauge Naruto’s face - despite the rejection, his mouth is tilting up. “Um, okay! Next time.”

“...Go away, please. You’re going to give away my hiding spot,” I mumble, ducking my head back down against my knees. Please no next time,  _never_ would be ideal.

“Right! Sorry!” Naruto lets go of the branches making me visible to view and scurries away.

I scrub a hand over my face and blow out a puff of air.

“Woof!”

I flinch back, eyes wide in my face as I sway back. Instead of Naruto, Akamaru sits in front of me, his doggy face grinning smugly.

“Ahh, you got me!” I say, forcing a grin on my face. I reach out to pet him a few times and let the feeling of soft fur and a tiny, dense body take some of the anxiety away. “You’re such a good seeker!” I giggle because that just makes me think of stupid Harry Potter references.

Akamaru barks in agreement and then makes a silly little ‘wooo’ noise when I lean down to smack a little kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go find Kiba now, then!” I stand up and brush the dirt from my pants.

Things might be doomed to be destroyed, but at least in the present, there’s a tiny puppy following at my heels and the scent of hydrangea in the air. Little things to appreciate, at the very least.

Long-term goals may be vague, but things aren’t completely at a loss. There’s still a Kiba to find, and Neji waiting for me at home. Everything will be _fine_ , as long as I don’t think about it too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally planned for this to be a short chapter, but then it completely got away from me. Oops?  
> I greatly appreciate any reviews! Comments make me doubly inspired to write.


End file.
